The Unseen
by Denebola
Summary: When Will leaves for a week, Layla is left to her own devices, Magenta is left playing the Greek Chorus, and Warren is left holding the bag. Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it isn't there. [WillLayla, slight WarrenLayla subtext.]
1. Will Leafs

Disclaimer: I own nothing. The Devil owns Sky High. I mean Disney.

* * *

**_The Unseen_**

* * *

"Isn't it exciting, honey!?" 

Josie Stronghold was holding a frying pan in one hand, and holding out a formal looking letter up to her son with the other, an expectant smile gracing her face. Will Stronghold leaned on the kitchen counter, straining to read the shaking manuscript as it jolted every time his mother sauteed the pan over the stove.

"Did you tell him yet, Josie?" Steve Stronghold asked proudly, entering the dining room, and taking a seat at the table. Will's father, in his characteristic charmingly arrogant manner, tapped his watch in mock annoyance. "Dinner was supposed to be on the table twenty minutes ago."

Josie glared at her husband over the rim of her glasses. "I'm telling him right now, Steve." She turned off the stove, and motioned for her son the take the letter. "Will is very excited," Mrs. Stronghold said dryly, noting the confused expression on Will's face as he read over the sheet of paper for the third time.

"Wait. Okay, so... does this mean me too?" Will questioned his parents, joining his dad at the dinner table and sliding the letter across the glossy surface towards him.

Steve grinned broadly, regarding the letter as something precious when he smoothed out any invisible wrinkles on its surface. "You bet it does! We wouldn't be - the Stronghold Three without you!" He cocked his head in the direction of his wife, who was carrying two dishes of food through the doorway. "Did yaw hear that honey? I rhymed! Maybe that should be our new, uh, team motto! Our _battle cry_!"

Will and his mother shared a secret look, and both hid their smiles. "We'll come up with something Steve, don't worry." After setting the family meal out on the table, Josie finally took a seat herself. "So what do you think, Will?"

Will absorbed what the letter had suggested, and came up with a coherent synopsis. "So... basically, they want to sponsor us to go on some kind of "help-the-helpless" world tour, and they're gonna donate all the proceeds to charity?" Will surmised, sending his parents skeptical looks.

Ever since his parents (as The Commander and Jetstream, of course) had unveiled to the world that the dynamic duo had become a terrific trio (or "_thrio_", as his father had announced at the press conference), Will felt like he was growing up way faster than expected. It was one thing to watch your parents save a bus-full of orphans on television. It was something completely different to be there, and hear the panicked, desperate screaming of young children and feel the raging heat of the flames. His parents still refused to let him actively participate in the "family business", claiming it too dangerous for someone his age, despite his powers and that little incident last year when he'd saved an entire high school from certain doom. Will sometimes wasn't sure whether to feel patronized, or grateful for their overprotective gestures.

"That's exactly right, Will. We know that it's short notice, but how could we say no to an opportunity like this. All of these people requested our aid, and it wouldn't be right to deny them," Josie replied, her empathetic tone more convincing than the words themselves.

"Plus, they all _want_ to be helped," Steve muttered bitterly, "It's always a pain in the butt when after the fact, they're all,_ "But Commander, what will we drink when you've turned the river into a crater?"_,or, _"That was the only building we have, and you had to use it as a baseball bat?!"_

There was a beat of silence, and then Will and his mother carried on as though Steve had not spoken.

"That's a lot of stops. On one of them I could have sworn that it said we were scheduled to appear tomorrow afternoon," Will remarked, before taking a swig of his soda.

"That's right," his father confirmed happily, "We leave for the airport tomorrow at 5 a.m.. Bring your cape and mask, of course, because we can't expect your mother to carry us all the way to Buenos Aires, nor can the public see the Commander and Jetstream board an aircraft with a stocky adolescent who refuses to get a haircut..."

"Steve!" Josie scolded, shooting her husband a disapproving glance.

_"Stocky?" _Will worded under his breath, to himself. "Wait! So, what am I gonna do about school?"

"Oh, no worries, son," Mr. Stronghold assured Will airily, "I already called you in. In case anyone asks after we get back, your Smallpox cleared up just fine."

"I know that you mean _Chickenpox_, Steve," Will's mother said threateningly, between clenched teeth. "And the school is going to know that he isn't _sick_ when they notice a teenage boy accompanying the Commander and Jetstream around the globe."

Mr. Stronghold's mouth opened once, closed, a blank look crossed his face, and then he quickly took a bite of his salad. "Gosh, honey, this is great. You know I love it when you put in these little baby tomatoes."

Josie released a weary sigh, got up from the table, and headed for the phone to call back the school and leave them a message concerning Will's "illness."

Will watched his parents in fond amusement. He knew how much the Stronghold Three meant to them, and he had to admit, he wasn't all that _not_ excited about it himself. In an unusual display of cautiousness and conscientiousness, Will's father had suggested that his son wear a mask whenever he appeared publicly with his parents, at least until he graduated. Neither he nor his wife would entertain the thought of one of their supervillian foes targeting their only child in some revenge plot that their kind tended to embark on. He felt dorky wearing it with his red, white, and blue color-coded street clothes, but at least his parents were comforted by it.

Thinking back on the long list of places, dates and times that the invitation to the Stronghold Three had listed on it, Will suddenly looked across the table at his father with a surge of foreboding. "Hey Dad, how long will we be on this tour for?"

* * *

"A week?" Layla asked softly, standing with her arms crossed over her chest, and her eyebrows drawn together. 

Will had run right next-door, almost immediately after his father's reply to his inquiry. It was already after 7:00, and he had to leave before dawn tomorrow morning. Will refused to go on so long a trip without telling his girlfriend goodbye properly. Layla's mom let him in after he pounded on their door a few times, informing him that he was welcome to stay for dinner in about half an hour, but from the looks of the fork he still gripped in his hand, he'd already eaten. Will had nodded thankfully, and stormed up the stairs to Layla's room, praying that she wouldn't be distressed at the news of his unexpected departure.

"Yep. But we're doing it to help people, to make a difference. It's a once in a lifetime opportunity..." Will reasoned, hoping to appeal to Layla's humanitarian streak. He laid the fork down on her dresser, and took a seat on her panda-bear bedspread.

"A whole week?" she asked again, standing still as a statue. Will could only spread his arms in apology.

"Afraid so." Will watched guiltily as Layla began to pace thoughtfully back and forth in front of the foot of her bed. "You gonna miss me?" he asked playfully, trying to lighten things up.

Layla stopped, and gave him a long searching look, her face expressionless. "Eh." she said, and began to pace again.

"_Eh?_"Will repeated, incredulous. "That's it?!" He couldn't believe that she was behaving so coldly towards him. It was so unlike Layla.

Layla continued to pace, and answered him deadpan. "Would it make you feel better if I threw in a "_shrug_"?" she asked, doing just that.

Will could feel the sickly fear that had been creeping into his gut dissipate when he caught the small smile in the corner of Layla's mouth before she could hide it. _Heh. Gotcha._

Will scooted backward on Layla's bad, spread out his limbs and laid back on her pillow. "You're just saying that to punish me...," he moaned miserably. Layla stopped pacing and looked down at him. He knew it would work. He could always count on Layla to crash his pity-parties, even if they were staged.

His girlfriend grinned slightly. "Psshh. If I were gonna punish you, I could think of something way better than that."

_Oh. Hello hormones. Not right now. We'll talk later, when we're alone, and we can put that sentence on memory loop._

"Yeah?" Will asked, struggling to keep any hint of suggestiveness out of his voice. "Like what?" He smiled daringly at Layla, his eyes narrowed.

Layla tilted her head slyly, uncrossing her arms, and walked up to the side of her bed, with her boyfriend in it. "Like... maybe... this!" Layla suddenly threw herself on Will, and latched herself to his side, holding onto him as hard as she could.

"Doooon't goooo!" She wailed piteously, entangling she and Will's arms and legs so that he could not escape easily.

Will burst into laughter at her antics, knowing that she was faking this rare display of absurd melodrama. "Layla, I have to...," he said, between laughs.

"Nooooo!" Layla moaned into his ear, laughing herself. "Don't leeaavve meee!" Layla was holding him to her so hard that Will could not move from the bearhug/bodylock she had him captured in without using his powers, not that he would want to.

"I'm sorry, but it's only for one week." Will found that whenever he tried to sit up, Layla would use all her strength to wrestle him back down to the bed. _Maybe I should take world-tours more often..._

Layla was giggling like a maniac now. "No! I won't let you! You're staying!" She wrapped her arms around his chest and neck and continued her attempt to hug him to death.

Will began to pretend to wrestle away from her, as though he didn't enjoy every second of her affection. "I can't!"

Layla wouldn't have it. "You _will_! You're not moving from this spot!" She wrapped both of her legs around one of his in a pseudo leglock and laid her head on his shoulder. "They'll have to pry my cold, dead, hands off you."

Will relaxed into her deathgrip. "I do have super-strength, you know..."

Layla lifted her head from his shoulder and met his eyes with her own. "So what? I know your weakness, Will Stronghold." she drawled slowly, a warmly mischievous glint in her eye.

"What!?" Will smiled wide, anticipating what her next sentence could possibly be.

"_I_ am your kryptonite!" Layla declared overdramatically, as she renewed her struggle to squeeze the life out of him.

Loving this seldom seen side of her that he was sure he was the only one to have ever experienced, Will played along, and decided to dish out a little payback. "Well I know yours too!" He slid away from her a bit on the bed, only to reach out his hands and quickly run his fingers along her sides and stomach.

Layla screamed, and began laughing in a high pitched tone as she tried to unintelligibly demand for him to stop tickling her. Finally, after about thirty seconds, Layla relented. "All right, all right, I give, I give!"

Layla loosed her grip on her boyfriend, and turned over to lay on her back. Both she and Will stared up at her bedroom ceiling, panting happily as they lay side-by-side on her bed.

"Okay then." Will turned his head to smile at her. " See you next week," he said, and hopped off the bed with no warning.

"Wait!" Layla grabbed his arm in panic. "You can't just leave." She looked up at him imploringly, and not for the first time, Will thanked whoever was listening for his good fortune.

Will helped her up off the bed so she could stand beside him. "So you _will_ miss me, then...?" he asked softly, brushing a thumb across her cheek.

Layla smiled gently a him. "...Of course I'll miss you..." She pulled Will to her and kissed him tenderly, causing him to lose all sense of time and space.

When she let go, and the world again had sounds and sights and smells to it besides Layla, Layla, and Layla, her face split into a beaming grin. "Have fun," she said sincerely, and turned him towards the door.

Will stumbled a few steps towards her bedroom door, but then turned right back around and began walking back towards Layla. "You know, maybe I can still talk them out of it..." Before he could even finish his sentence, she had put her hands on his shoulders, made him about-face, and was pushing him out the door.

**_"Go,"_** She insisted, giggling. Just before she could shut the door in his face, Will stole one last quick kiss, then allowed the door to close.

Layla leaned back against her closed bedroom door for a few seconds, her eyes closed in that post-Will euphoria that she always got whenever they spent time together. Then, gingerly, she made her way back to her bed, and fell on to it. Turning onto her back, she exhaled a content, yet wistful sigh.

Her cell phone on her bedstand erupted in the ringtone to _Captain Planet_. Layla answered it half-heartedly, her eyes closed.

"Hello?"

_"I was just walking down your stairs, and I missed you, so I thought I'd call..."_ Layla couldn't help laughing when she recognized Will's voice on the other end.

* * *

Author's Notes: Please excuse the fluffiness. It is there so that I can contrast this relationship with others. I'll admit that I am a huge Layla/Warren fan, but I also am a slave to canon. This is my first Sky High fic, so I hope that not everyone is too out-of-character. I had a lot of fun writing for the Commander, hehe. The other kids at Sky High will appear in the next chapter, and then I can get into what the story is actually about. (Hint: It's inspired by Greek Mythology) Also, Layla will be much more mellow, no worries.

P.S.: For all you anal-retentives out there like me, _no_, I did not forget about the fork!


	2. Spotting Weeds

Disclaimer: I own nothing. The Devil owns Sky High. I mean _Disney._

* * *

**The Unseen**

* * *

It was weird waiting at the bus stop without Will. For as long as she'd been riding the bus, Will had ridden it with her. Layla sat in the window seat on the bus, watching the clouds pass with her head leaning gloomily against the pane of glass. She didn't know how she would get through a week of this. Once, in second grade, Will was out sick for two days with poison-oak. Over the weekend, on a Saturday, she and Will had decided to go on an "adventure" through the woods (Which was really just a bunch of trees clustered together; everything had seemed so much larger when they were younger) behind Mr. and Mrs. Kibbitch's house. She had walked through it once before with her mom, on a hunt for a squirrel that refused to stop singing _Moon River_ loudly in the middle of the night, according to Layla's mother.

Will had allowed her to lead the way, since she was the nature expert of the two. Unfortunately, with Layla's biological relationship with plants, she was, at that age, unaware that they could be harmful to people who didn't have her body chemistry. When the two of them spotted a rotting log that could potentially be hiding a fairy (or a goblin, Will had insisted repeatedly) she'd led Will right through a patch of poison-oak to get to it and investigate. Then she'd led him through it _again_ on the rapid trip out after they discovered a hornet's nest stuck to the top on the inside of the log. Will had been particularly freaked out, she remembered, having just watched _My Girl_ with his parents the week before.

That Sunday, Mrs. Stronghold called her mom to make sure that Layla wasn't covered in a rash like Will was. The poor kid had been up half the night, trying to get his body to stop itching. When her mom was off the phone with Will's mom, she sat Layla down, and told her that she and Will were different. Layla was special, in a different way than Will was. Layla's powers had manifested when she was unusually young, and she called her daughter (pun intended, Layla was sure now) an "early bloomer." She told her that Layla had a connection with nature that, most likely, _no one_ else would have, not even Will. When Will didn't come to school the next day, she blamed herself for making Will sick, as much as she blamed the plants in the woods. That afternoon, she went back into the woods, and killed the nest of poisonous leaves that had infected her best friend, making them shrivel up until only a bad memory remained. That was the first time she'd ever used her powers to destroy.

Will was gone the next day, too. Murderingthe plants in vengeance hadn't helped anything. Will was still sick, and now she felt even more guilty. That afternoon, she had snuck into Will's room with the help of a tree and the roof over the first floor bathroom that Will liked to relax on. He was lying in bed, looking pretty pathetic, and she'd apologized to him, but stopped short of pouring her heart out and telling him about her homicide in the woods the day before.

But Will wouldn't have any of it. He apologized to her, taking the blame for his condition (of course). He told her that his doctor said he could go back to school tomorrow, and he would see her in the morning. She had been so relieved, she'd hugged him from his half-sitting up position, and he had panicked. He was afraid that she would catch the rash too. So she calmly repeated to him what her mother told her the day before, and Layla remembered how relieved he looked at the news. _"That's cool. You're like, immune to dangerous plants. Even my dad can't say that." _Will returned to school the next day and Layla put some of the worst three days of her life behind her. She hadn't stepped a foot inside those woods since.

"Maybe we'll go after he gets back..."

"What?" Magenta, who was sitting beside her asked, giving her a weirded-out look.

"Huh?" Layla asked, remembering where she was. "Are we there yet?"

"The school? No. And by the sounds of it, you're not even here on Planet Earth." Magenta shook her head, and turned to Zach who sat on the other side of the aisle. "Layla is having Will withdrawals, and it hasn't even been twelve hours since he left. Isn't that disgusting?"

Zach assumed an all-knowing face, and regarded Layla. "I think it would be even more disgusting if Will were a gold digger. 'Cause_ Layla ain't messing with no broke-broke. I ain't saying he's a gold digger, er-eh-er-eh, but she ain't messin' with no -"_

**_"Stop," _**Ethan piped up, from beside Zach. "He has been doing this all morning. If he doesn't cut it out, I'm gonna throw myself down his throat and drown him." Ethan sent Zach the most threatening glare he could muster through his thick glasses.

"Whoa, relax bro, we're here." Zach pointed to the floating campus in the sky, as the driver landed on the ground.

Layla only vaguely listened to her friends as they engaged in their usual banter. She didn't notice the concerned glance that Magenta threw her when they exited the bus, because she was too wrapped up in the melancholy derived from missing Will. Layla hated to be a pessimist, but she was afraid that the week would go by at a miserable crawl, forcing her to wallow in her loneliness.

If she had any idea how wrong she was, she would have _hoped_ for the solitude.

* * *

"Crashed? What do you mean, crashed!?" It was later in the afternoon, after lunch, and Mr. Boy was making a scene in the hallway, to the bemusement of Principal Powers, and the embarrassment of his students who were crowded behind him.

Mr. Boy had scheduled the sophomore Sidekick class to have access to the computer lab, but when he led the group there, he was met with the Principal, and several technicians dressed in gray overalls who were gathered in the computer lab, hovering over the PCs.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Boy, but the head computer technician told me that sometime earlier today, we were attacked my a malicious computer virus that is infiltrating our network as we speak. There's nothing we can do but let them work." Principal Powers was known for her infinite patience, and by the way this day was going so far, it looked like she would need it.

"But, but how am I supposed to teach my Hero Support class basic hacking if we don't have any computers to use?! It's, it's madness!" Mr. Boy exclaimed exasperatedly, waving his arms around.

Principal Powers, as unruffled as ever, merely stared at him with her arms crossed over her chest. "I'm afraid you'll just have to make due, Mr. Boy. These technical difficulties aren't easy on any of us."

Before Mr. Boy could resort to whining, one of the technicians came out of the lab and approached the Principal. He had on blue overalls instead of gray, which distinguished him as the lead technician. "Principal Powers?"

She turned to him quickly, thankful to be spared any tantrums by Mr. Boy. "Yes? Is everything going all right?"

The man shook his head wearily. "I don't know _what_ hit this place, but I have _never_ seen anything like it. This bug is eating through everything it sees, and it's coming out the other end looking like ancient Sumerian - _not literally_," He amended, when one of the Sidekicks in Mr. Boys' class eagerly stepped forward, his one and only superpower happening to be that he inherently understood ancient Sumerian. The student sadly walked back behind his teacher, and received sympathetic pats on the back from Layla and Zach.

"Do you have any idea how long it will take for you to clear it all up?" The Principal asked graciously, watching Mr. Boy struggle to control his emotions from over the technician's shoulder.

The computer expert shook his head ruefully. "Ma'am, as it is, me and my boys are fighting a war just keeping this thing out of the mainframe. If it gets in there, we could have some _major_ problems."

The class erupted into whispering from behind Mr. Boy's back, Ethan in particular standing out, as his hysterical whispering kept cracking his voice, and causing tiny screaming noises to issue from his throat.

Sensing the tension rising in the children, Principal Powers smiled thinly at Mr. Boy, and nodded towards the students standing behind him. "Mr. Boy, would you mind returning your class to your room? The repairs may take a while."

Taking the hint, Mr. Boy glumly ushered his charges back to their classroom, ignoring the hushed murmers of the group as they speculated just how bad the damage to Sky High's computer network could be.

As he and his friends re-entered their room, Zach turned to Magenta with a conspiratorial grin. "Hey, maybe if we're lucky, the school will decide to go hurtling towards the Earth during school hours this time. At the very least, we'll get out of class."

Magenta tried not to grin back.

* * *

There he was. As usual, Warren was seated after school on the steps leading into Sky High, with his nose in a book. He ignored everyone else around him, the milling students, the suspicious teachers, even the hyper freshman flitting about. Warren was lost in his own little world, crouched over a book, the ends of his long dark hair brushing the surface of the page he was concentrating on.

Layla slumped down beside him, and grabbed a hold of the book he had in his lap to flip it up for a second and read the title.

"_Neo-Freudians_? So, I guess I'd better not tell you about that dream I had where Will and I were playing football, but I was a goal post." Layla greeted Warren in her characteristically irreverent way, heedless of her friends' exasperated sigh as he put aside his book for another round of, "**Struggling to Understand Layla.**"

"Did he ever score?" Warren asked her, his face blank.

Layla smacked him on the arm.

"Where were you at lunch? We missed you," Layla said, switching into what Warren had patented her 'contentious observer' mode. Layla always seemed to notice the things that were going on around her, be it by monitoring the direction of the breeze, pinpointing the position of the moon during the day, or, irritatingly, following his well-disguised mood fluctuations like they were the tides of the sea.

"I was-, " Warren stopped instantly when he felt a tingle run down the back of his arms and shoulders, and the hair on the back of his neck stood at attention. The sensation was unmistakable. He was being _watched_. He looked to Layla, and saw that she too was spooked. She was scanning the various students loitering around them in trepidation, her face flushed, and her eyes wide.

"You felt that, too?" Warren asked her quietly, out of the side of his mouth. He made sure to stay hunched over, assuring that his position didn't give on that he was shaken to whomever may still be spying on them.

Layla reluctantly focused her eyes back on Warren, and nodded vaguely. "Yeah. Weird..."

Warren covertly shifted around a bit to observe his schoolmates, hiding his searching gaze under his blanket of long bangs. The eerie shiver had subsided but he had no doubt that whoever the little voyeur was, they were still around.

"Maybe we just imagined it," Layla rationalized, giving an embarrassed wave to Larry, a redheaded Hero Classer, as he walked past them, winking at Layla lewdly, and making hand-motions like his fingers were pistols. "Or maybe it was just Larry again. He does tha-"

"Yeah, he does do that," Warren interrupted, scowling. Larry shot him a glare before scurrying away when Warren pointed a finger at him like he had done to Layla, only Warren's "gun" was flame tipped.

Layla sighed again and leaned her head on Warren's shoulder. "Will is gone. Gone away..." Layla bemoaned half-jokingly. "Awaaayy-ay-ay..."

Warren snorted, and stood up suddenly. "Come on hippie, you're gonna miss your bus." Whether Warren's deflection was due to his compulsion to maintain a straight face at all times, his rejection of anyone's affection but his mothers' (aside from his icy ex whom we **do-not-talk-about**, of course), or his frustration over _still_ having to play couples counselor to Will and Layla, even after he got them together in the first place, Layla didn't ask. But she obeyed, following behind him as he headed for the outer edge of the school, where the busses hovered in wait.

As they walked across the campus, Warren tried not to let on to Layla what was bothering him. When he'd run Larry off, his eyes had caught a brief flash of billowing black lurking behind a column - but he'd blinked, and then it was gone.

"What do you think? Is that a bad idea?" Layla asked him, her voice breaking into his thoughts.

"What? No. Whatever." He knew the moment he saw the part-shocked, part-relieved, overwhelmingly ecstatic expression on Layla's face that he had just said something he might end up regretting.

"Thanks so much, Warren. I was afraid I would go crazy without him." Layla breathed, waving to Magenta and Ethan, who were following Zach to the sophomore bus. "So then, I'll just ride my bike, okay? My mom's Hybrid is environmentally friendly, but _any_ carbon monoxide is too much, you know?"

No, Warren didn't know. "What?"

Layla broke apart from him, to approach Magenta who was waiting for her outside the door to the bus. "I'll see you around 7:30, okay? And I promise, no talking about Will. Your house is a Will-talk _moratorium_. I'll bring some music, we'll have fun!" Layla called back to him, talking very fast.

Warren stood dumbfounded. "What?"

Just when Warren was sure that Layla was going to just leave him standing there, staring after her green clad back, she opened the window in the seat she'd taken on the bus and finally answered him. "When I come over to hang at your place tonight. That is _okay_, isn't it?" She asked, in a painfully vulnerable voice.

_Oh. Crap_.

Warren shrugged helplessly at Layla. "Whatever you want, hippie. Just bring food. My mom hasn't been shopping, and we're down to frozen chicken, and lunchmeat."

From beside Layla, Warren heard Magenta's voice float out the window._ "You're going to **Warren's house?!"** _Layla ignored her inquiry, and made an "ew" face at Warren.

"Got it."

Students were rushing to the busses now, but Warren still wasn't convinced that Layla visiting him at home was the best course of action to take to kick the Will blues. "You sure you wanna come over? My house can be kind of... boring." Layla had never been to Warren's place, none of his friends had, and he tried telling himself that was the reason he was so nervous about having a houseguest, and _not_ because of whom that houseguest happened to be.

Layla smiled brightly at him through the window, and chuckled. "It'll be fine, Warren. You're talking to someone who actually finds it exciting to _watch the grass grow_."

Warren raised an eyebrow in response, and Layla waved him goodbye as the sophomore bus was about to blast off towards Earth. A split second before the bus shot off, Magenta's question to Layla reached his ears.

_"What would **Will **say?" _

Choosing not to brood on that concept, Warren jogged towards the junior bus. The driver was already honking, as he was one of the last students to load up. Warren entered the bus and took a seat, completely ignoring everyone around him.

What would Will say? It didn't matter. Will wasn't here. Which was exactly why Warren suspected that the dark shadow he had seen (and felt) earlier wasn't just some random occurrence of a student's powers going a little haywire on them, as superteens going through puberty happened to experience. The knowledge that Will was absent only made him more paranoid.

That figure hadn't been watching _him_, it was watching **_Layla_**.

* * *

Author's Notes: This chapter was a pain to write. I got stuck a few times. I'm trying to find a balance between keeping it (and all of my stories, to varying degrees of success) paced well enough so that I don't give away too much, too soon, or slog through it to the point where it becomes... **boring**. So, does this need more killer, less filler, less exposition, more humor, more exposition, less dialogue, or just more time? And if anyone reading this falls into a plot hole, please let me know. Anyway, thanks for reading, and reviews are greatly appreciated! School's almost out for Summer! Yatta! 


	3. Hoeing Around

Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High.

* * *

**Hoeing Around**

* * *

She looked lonely. He understood that feeling. More than anyone else at this school, he understood what it felt like to be alone.

He'd first noticed her last year when she was a freshman. She tended to stick out like a sore thumb among the Sidekicks she hung around with, always willing to throw in her opinion on an issue, no matter how unpopular it was. He didn't have any classes with her, but that didn't stop her from catching his eye.

But her heart belonged to someone else. It was obvious to anyone watching (which was an activity he engaged in often) that she was smitten with that idiot show-off who wouldn't know how to ease her loneliness any better than he did how to dress like he hadn't just been vomited on by Uncle Sam.

He'd wanted to ask her to Homecoming last year.

When he later found out that while he spent the evening alone pining, the school had nearly fallen as hard as he did for her, he kind of wished that it had.

The upstart Stronghold was just a sweet childhood crush that would fade away, like all childhood dreams. And he was prepared to wait it out until the time came when she outgrew him. Her naive idealism about first love only made her all the more endearing. Peace, on the other hand, was a much bigger problem.

He knew that she'd befriended Warren Peace out of the very loneliness that he had sought to soothe, but he hadn't expected for her to take things so far with him. Unlike all of those sheep that were living those half-shadows they called lives, he was aware that the whole relationship was a sham. He'd overheard the two of them talking in the cafeteria the first day she dared to sit with him, right before all of her Sidekick friends showed up and scared Peace away. The ruffian had stuck around, kept his word, and provided support for her when Stronghold barely regarded her immense feelings for him as a blip on the radar. It was quite infuriating at the time.

As if having the loyalty of the most volatile student on campus wasn't bad enough, when he'd returned to school after the weekend, everyone was going on and on about how cute "Will and Layla" were together. How romantic it was that they saved everyone, and finally declared their love on the night of the dance.

So, he kept to the shadows, and bided his time, doing the gentlemanly thing.

Apparently, Peace never had such an inclination. _The moment Stronghold leaves town, he's thick as thieves with the braggart's girlfriend. _The two of them were sitting together so comfortably, if a passerby didn't know any better they would think they were a couple. In fact, many people still believed that they had feelings for each other.

She had rocked the school when it came out that she was dating Warren Peace, and it made a lot of guys in his class give her a second look, even if she was a Sidekick. He remembered having to hurt a few of them when their locker-room talk became too inappropriate. The looks on their faces alone made the risk worth it - they never knew what hit them.

With the Stronghold Three off on some international press tour, according to the news, she would be in need of someone to pay her attention, give her comfort, maybe a shoulder to cry on. He could do all that for her, all that and more. If only he could get close enough to her.

This was the exact same thing that happened last time. Just when he's about to make his move, Warren Peace steps in and plays the suitor. But he wouldn't be denied a second time.

And neither would Layla.

* * *

"Incoming!" The Commander shouted, throwing a motorcycle through the air like it was a football. It exploded on impact with the chest of a man dressed as a yellow bird.

"You can't stop me, Commander! Not when my power core draws from your very life force!" The bird man yelled back, aiming a metal egg down at the Commander as he flew above him.

"Tell your power core to stop mooching off of my husband, Captain Canary!" Jetstream surprised the flying villain by soaring up behind him and nailing him across the back of the head with the handle bars off the destroyed motorcycle she'd caught on the way up. The handlebars bent in the shape of his skull, but didn't phase him a bit.

Captain Canary whipped around in the air, his majestic golden wings flapping behind him, and grabbed Jetstream by the throat. "It's going to take more than you to stop me, Josie, when I now have your husband's strength of one hundred_ idiots_!" He yanked her around by her cape, wrapped the egg in it, and pushed her away, spinning.

"Mom!" A smaller form dressed in blue jeans, a white jacket with matching cape, and a red ski mask grabbed her before she blew past him. He hurriedly unraveled the metal egg from Jetstream's cape, and tossed it behind him, where the egg-bomb exploded in mid-air, thirty feet off the ground.

The panicked villagers scurried around below, and the Commander herded as many people he could to the relative safety under the forest trees while trying to dodge the egg-bombs that Captain Canary rained down upon him. A humungous, clear, indestructible egg was placed in the center of the village, where a pretty teenage native struggled to escape, yelling, and pounding her arms soundlessly against the rounded walls of her prison.

The Stronghold Three's antagonist was less than intimidated by the youngest member of the team. "This is your newest recruit?" Scoffed Captain Canary, watching the masked boy flit about in the air. "What's his moniker, _'Ms. Useless?'_"

"Oh come on now, Barry!" Jetstream scolded, patting the crestfallen masked-boy on the back comfortingly as they hovered a few feet away from the villain, "He doesn't even have his license yet, you know he hasn't gotten his superhero name!"

Captain Canary rolled his eyes, and launched another egg-bomb down at a screaming crowd. "Oh that's right, I forget. You Strongholds always did have a habit of jumping the gun. That explains why you lost the lead in Oklahoma, Steve - you always started in on the chorus a second before everyone else," he jeered at the Commander.

This infuriated the leader of the Stronghold Three. "All right, that's it! You can disrupt our charity tour, you can hold the village chief's beautiful daughter hostage, you can call me an idiot, you can try to blow up my wife, you can even call me an idiot, but nobody, and I mean nobody insults my son's masculinity!"

"He's running a few seconds _behind_, now," the masked-boy mused, flying beside Jetstream.

"Shhh," she chided, frowning at him in disapproval. "You know there's only _one_ way to end this without risking the lives of any more villagers, _and_ keep Captain Canary's scrawny neck from being wrung until his head pops off."

Captain Canary threw down an egg-bomb from each hand, and one of them landed right in the middle of a group of photographers who were desperate to get the best shot of the battle in the sky. They quickly dispersed right before it detonated, sending debris shooting an all directions. The Commander caught the other, and rocketed it right back up at their winged enemy like it was a baseball.

"I may have lost the lead, but at least I wasn't voted "_Best Victim in Save the Citizen_" in the Yearbook!" Unfortunately, the Commander's triumph was short lived, when Captain Canary abruptly swerved out of the way of his egg-bomb, and it made a perfect arc into a stockpile of fireworks that were to be used later that night in celebration of the Stronghold Three's visit.

The masked-boy nodded and sighed as he observed various multicolored eruptions surround he and Jetstream, one of them nearly nicking his ankle if Jetstream hadn't pulled him out of the way in time. "Okay, mom. What's your plan?"

Jetstream pointed down at the Commander, who was ushering a family away from their flame-engulfed hut that had been set alight by the fireworks that landed on the roof. "You handle your father. _I'll_ take care of Captain Canary."

"And here I was, afraid to leave the house in case my VCR didn't tape my program," gloated Captain Canary. "I've never had so much fun in my life!"

"Hey!" Called Jetstream, suddenly soaring into his field of vision. "I wouldn't fret over it - in prison you'll never have to worry about stepping out and missing your show again."

The Commander was frantically waving his arms at one of the flaming huts in attempt to put out the fire, but it only seemed to be making things worse. The girl in the middle of the village was still trapped inside the egg-prison, but never stopped fighting to get out. The masked-boy landed on the ground behind the Commander, and quickly ran to him.

"Hey, Dad!" He shouted, and The Commander turned around with a look of surprise. "Will, shouldn't you be helping your mother?"

"I will, but only if you promise not to ground me for it," The masked-boy requested nervously, clenching his fists.

The Commander chuckled obligingly. "Of course I won't! Why, I'm so prou-"

The praise of the Commander was cut violently short by a sucker punch to the face from the boy in the red mask. The senior superhero crashed to the ground, out for the count. The masked-boy dragged his unconscious body away from the flaming hut, and gave Jetstream far up above him a thumbs up.

Captain Canary jolted in the air, falling a few feet, then regaining his flight. "What? What just happened?" He pulled a small pulsating red, white, and blue egg from his feathered belt, and watched as the color drained from it, along with the color from his face. "No! My power core! It's empty!"

Jetstream smirked at him, her cape billowing dramatically behind her in the wind as fireworks went off in the sky behind her. "Oops. Looks like you're back down to the strength of _one_ idiot, Captain Canary." She lunged at him through the sky, and delivered a sucker punch to his face much like the one the Commander had received a moment earlier.

Captain Canary plummeted to the earth, and was caught reluctantly by the masked-boy just before he hit the ground. He promptly dropped him, and the supervillain rolled a few feet away, his wings twitching. "I'm not sure why he sings, but I know how the _soon-to-be_ caged bird got his butt kicked."

Jetstream landed gracefully next to her prone husband, and the masked-boy rushed over to them. "Is he gonna be okay? I didn't hit him too hard, did I?"

The female superhero leaned down to gently pry open one of the Commander's blue eyes, smiled softly, and stood to place a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder. "He'll be fine. You did good today, honey. I'm proud of you."

A loud cheering roared from the forest, and all of the villagers and reporters started filtering out, hands clapping and cameras flashing. The egg that was holding the girl captive had cracked open when the Commander was KO'd, and now she was enveloped in a tight hug by her father, the village chief. The waiting news crews bombarded Jetstream, shouting excited questions to the preening superheroine in a dozen different languages.

The masked-boy stood to the side, next to the previously burning hut that was now nothing but ashes. He was so amazed at how well Jetsream handled the over-zealous reporters, he didn't even notice the village chief's daughter until she was standing right in front of him.

He also didn't notice that all of the cameramen had focused on him until the girl reached up, slightly lifted his ski-mask, and with a rainbow of colors still exploding in the sky, pulled him into a passionate kiss.

The girl wrapped her arms around his neck, and from somewhere behind the blinding flashes and clicks of hundreds of cameras, the booming from above, and the whooping of the villagers, he heard the Commander's groggy voice call out, "Way to go, son!"

Finally, after what felt like the most mortifying hours of his life, the girl broke the kiss, released him, gave a grateful smile, and skipped away to rejoin her father and her family. When his eyes adjusted from the flashbulbs, he was met with the sight of Jetstream cocking her head quizzically at him with her hands on her hips, and the Commander nodding sagely with a grin plastered on his face, his legs outstretched in front of him on the ground.

A few of the reporters were giving wolf whistles, and even though he hardly understood a word most of them were saying, he distinctly heard one of them request for him to "kiss your girlfriend again."

_This is very bad._

He tried his best to shrug off the attention of the media, and scurried over to his parents, but he knew from the sinking in his gut that he was already too late, and the damage had already been done.

The image of the teenage protege to the Commander and Jetstream kissing an exotic princess whom he helped heroically rescue would be all over the news.

_Layla, I hope you were only kidding about that knowing my kryptonite thing. 'Cause I get the feeling that after you see this, you're gonna want to get it out of that little lead box._

* * *

"Wow, I can't believe you don't have a TV," Layla said, allowing Warren to lead her through his living room.

His home wasn't at all like she expected it to be. She knew Warren lived in a bad area, and usually poverty-ridden families didn't have much in the way of possessions. But from the looks of it, Warren and his mom did okay. There was nothing too extravagant, but there was a lot more _color_ than she anticipated. The walls were decorated with seething paintings that looked as though they wanted to bleed out past the frame, and soak into anyone who dared to stare at them for too long. Somehow, just by looking, Layla knew that Warren was the artist who brought them into being.

It was just this side of cramped, but the apartment was certainly homey, and it was obvious to anyone who entered that it was a place of familial warmth.

She'd ridden her bike over, but Warren was so paranoid about someone stealing it despite her bike chain, he carried it inside with them, and propped it up in the kitchen for safe keeping.

"I told you it was boring," he reminded, motioning for her to bring her backpack over to the kitchen table. "What did you bring?"

Layla placed her bag on the table and pulled each item out one by one. "Baby carrots, rice crisps, some apples, and-" she stopped at the look on Warren's face. "What?"

He picked up one of the apples she'd taken out of her bag, and practiced tossing it in the air and catching it. "All that great food, and here I am on an all-cardboard diet. You don't happen to have any sawdust for seasoning, do you?" He stopped playing with the apple, and moved to grab her bag from her instead.

Layla yanked it away from him, and wagged a finger in his face when he leaned over the table towards her. "I brought pretzels, too," she said, pulling them out, and tossing them on the table with a crunch.

Warren eyed the bag of pretzels without interest. "Mmm. Those will go great with some gravy I made the other night." He lowered his voice to a comical whisper. "The secret ingredient is _glue_."

Layla gasped, aghast. "That's not even funny, Warren." Will once told him about an epic incident in third grade where Layla threw a full-out, obscenity-riddled, chair throwing, desk-jumping, temper tantrum. It was Valentine's Day, and in the midst of pouring glitter on the red and white construction paper, one of her classmates informed her offhand that the cows on the glue bottles weren't _mascots_, they were _ingredients_. According to Will, she spent the next two weeks grounded, trying to convince her parents to start a "blind cow charity" for the brave survivors of the victimizing glue factories. Her mother hadn't the heart to tell her the truth, and instead bought her a stuffed bull, named _Toro_. And that's the story of the very first time Warren laughed so hard, milk shot out of his nose.

"Relax, it's only the _secret_ ingredient. The rest is made of one hundred percent pure manatee. I call it '_gravitee_.' Get it?"

Layla narrowed her eyes at him. "Well if you're going to be like that, I won't show you what I brought for you," she threatened.

Warren went silent, and raised his eyebrows for her to continue.

With flourish, she pulled out the rest of the snacks one by one.

"Cashews."

Warren's head raised a miniscule amount, considering.

"Graham crackers."

Warren's brow creased in thought.

"And pudding."

Warren immediately shot out a hand to reach for the pudding pack, and this time, Layla let him have it.

"Fat free, of course." Warren hesitated with the chocolate pudding for only a second, then shrugged and pulled out two spoons from a drawer. Looking at them jogged a memory.

"So did Will call you to tell you he was leaving, or did you find out on the morning news like everyone else?" She asked, as he pulled out some bowls from a cabinet.

"Moratorium," he muttered, too low for Layla to hear.

"What?" She couldn't see his face.

"He texted me last night," Warren answered, placing the bowls on the table in front of her, and ripping open the pretzel bag first.

"Really? What did he say?" Layla felt like she was being nosy, but she knew Warren would understand.

"OMG b bk n 1 wk XOXO Will."

After a moment, Layla's brain caught up with her ears. _"No, he did not!"_

Warren chuckled, and finished dumping the crisps and pretzels in bowls. "Don't forget your spoon," he said, nodding his head the spoons on the table.

Layla picked up the silverware and her backpack as he gathered up the junk food, and she followed behind him as he walked into the living room, carefully balancing the snacks in his arms. Sometimes being a waiter had its perks.

There was no overhead light in the ceiling, and it was fairly dark except for where some tall floor lamps lit up the corners of the living room. "You know, Will left his fork in my bedroom last night," Layla said, only half paying attention to her words, and instead focusing on the soft light that hit the spoons when she slowly spun them between her fingers.

Warren abruptly placed the food on the coffee table, and stiffly straightened up to regard her. "Does your mother know that you and Will have been forking in your bedroom? Was it a "good-bye" fork? Did he cry?" He asked empathetically.

Layla threw a spoon at him, and it bounced harmlessly off his chest to land in the bowl of rice crisps.

Warren grinned. "Imagine the betrayal he'll feel when he finds out that you and I have been spooning together."

The second spoon hit him right between the eyes.

"Geez hippy, whatever happened to _make love, not war_?" Warren asked, gently rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Layla sighed disgustedly. "That whole thing was a hoax. It's an anagram for "_weak valet moron_." The guy who started it wasn't really a hippie, he was just a really clever actor dressed as one for research, and some kid at a restaurant had trouble getting his car door open one night. He didn't want to openly insult the kid in case anyone was listening, but I guess someone heard anyway, and it caught on."

Warren sunk down onto the cushy tan sofa, and leaned back, glaring at her. "You are making that up."

Layla shrugged. "It's what I do." She joined him, slumping down on the cushion next to him. "You should know."

Warren glanced down imperceptibly to make sure that their thighs weren't touching. They weren't. Will really would be back in one week.

"How could I forget. You're the first girl to ever get away with shamelessly using me as a boytoy, and the _only_ one to ever actually care about me in the interim." Warren's eyes went distant and thoughtful, and his stare bored a hole into one of his paintings on the wall that was blue and white and gray. "I would have preferred to end it my way, but I suppose hers sufficed." He closed his eyes and smiled grimly, like he'd made a morbid joke.

It was jarring for Layla to hear him talk like this. She'd heard a saying somewhere about how people's homes were an externalization of their minds, and it made her feel warm inside to pretend that Warren would be so trusting as to invite her into both of his homes in the same night.

Layla stuck her out bottom lip in a sympathetic pout. "Aww. I'm sorry, Warren. She didn't deserve you anyway."

"Hm."

"Wouldn't you have preferred ending it sooner, rather than later, when things had gone too far?"

"Mm."

"Better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all, right?"

"..."

"She was a cold, hard, ice queen bee-otch, and you're better off without her."

Warren's head snapped to her so _fast_, she burst out laughing. She knew she was flushed with surprise at herself, but she was so completely delighted at his shocked reaction, it was worth it.

"Just when I think I've got you figured out..." Warren watched her with half-lidded eyes, a strange smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Layla smiled sheepishly, willing her blush to go away. "I'm sorry if I was out of line."

Warren tsked, and leaned his head back with a smirk. "As if you ever fell into line." He shook his head, and reached towards the coffee table to get a handful of pretzels.

Layla discreetly checked to see if their thighs were touching. They weren't. She shifted a few inches closer to the arm of the sofa.

"So I've got some music here," Layla suddenly mentioned, after Warren leaned back, chewing, with his eyes locked on her. Sometimes when Warren met eyes with her, he got quiet and she could never tell if he was intentionally trying to make her uncomfortable, or if his mind was exploring someplace far back in his memories, some area so dark that he needed his conscious thoughts to navigate through the shadows. "Guess what I brought." She handed him her bag that had been resting between her feet on the floor.

"U2 and Sarah McLachlan?" Asked Warren skeptically, without checking.

"Don't worry, I took into account that you mainly like music that showcases the world as a dark place composed of one part black pit of never-ending despair, two parts screaming at the top of your lungs at God." Warren frowned, and Layla tilted her head cockily. "And you'd be surprised at what I listen to."

Warren spoke without looking at her as he examined the cds she'd brought. "I've learned by now to expect the unexpected with you." He flipped through her cd case quickly, reading titles and rejecting albums before Layla even had the chance to catch what he was looking at. He stopped flipping suddenly, and pulled out one that had a dark red label. Warren jumped up from the couch, and went around behind them to a shelf with a boombox on it, squeezed between some books.

Layla whipped her head around to observe him carefully place the cd in the machine. "Which one'd you pick?"

When Warren told her, she was surprised.

"But, those are all _breakup_ songs! Not the kind that make you wanna drop your hairdryer in the bathtub on purpose."

"I always figured the two genres were blood brothers."

"Maybe," Layla pondered.

Warren pressed play.

* * *

Author's Notes: I can honestly say that I have never had more fun writing fanfiction than I did when writing the Stronghold Three fight scene. To think I almost chose to have Will be off-panel the whole fic! Hooray for goofy superheroics!

-Warren's "morbid joke" is a reference to the poem "Fire and Ice," by Robert Frost (I almost included his last name in the fic, but I was afraid it would be confusing). If you haven't read it, you can Google it; it's pretty short, but I think most people will recognize it since it's a classic.

-I don't know what the hell happened with the "gravitee" thing. I'm insane. Gravy plus Manatee, and it all comes together with the glue, because it keeps you stuck to the ground, just like "gravity." I've been watching way too much Arrested Development.

- _Weak valet moron_ proves that I'm insane. And shouldn't have bought those AD box sets.

- The cow-glue thing happened to me in second grade, only without the tantrum. And I didn't get a _Toro_...

-Warren's cd pick is random, and not based on any existing album.

-FFdotnet's formatting is really annoying.

Review, and let me know what you think. Funny, or just _weird_?


	4. Uprooted

Disclaimer: After months of negotiations, sadly, I still don't own Sky High.

* * *

**Uprooted**

* * *

Magenta, Zach and Ethan were on the edge of their seats. The bus pulled ever closer to Will and Layla's stop, and the three Sidekicks waited with bated breath to scope a familiar carrot-topped figure swathed in green.

"Dude, I don't think she's gonna show," Zach whispered confidentially to Ethan beside him in the seat, and Magenta across the aisle. "I know I wouldn't if my boyfriend cheated on me on National television."

Ethan scooted away from him.

Magenta rolled her eyes. "No, you'd sulk at home a few days, and then kick him to the curb," she said dryly. "You don't need no man who don't be treatin' you right."

"Actin' a fool..." Ethan joined in, eager for any opportunity to mock Zach's faux-street attitude.

"Hey! Did you guys hear about what _The Stronghold Three's_ newest member did yesterday?" From a few rows ahead of them, Larry was twisted around in his seat, grinning and breathing through his nose with excitement. Magenta suppressed a sick urge to shift into her rodent form, crawl into his backpack, and chew a hole through his gym shorts.

"Not really," Ethan replied lamely. Even he was heart-sick over what would no doubt prove to be one of the worst days of Layla's life.

"Seriously? Where have you _been_?!" Exclaimed a Sidekick sitting behind them, a blond girl whose power was morphing into a beach-ball. "It's like, all over the news!"

"You can't believe everything you see on the news," Zach threw back at her, trying not to get angry.

The girl sneered snottily at him, but turned away to watch out the window for Layla - just like the rest of the bus seemed to be doing. Even the new bus driver was craning her neck to catch a glimpse of the freshly-scorned girl as she slowed down beside their last stop.

Magenta saw her first. She braced herself for the downcast expression, the hunched and defeated posture, even the eyes welled-up with tears. But she was surprised by the sight of an unabashedly perky Layla, who cheerfully greeted the bus driver on her way in, and made her way to where her friends sat, oblivious to the stares of everyone around her. The bus was hushed, like someone had used an Anti-Sound Beam on all of the occupants.

"Good morning guys!" Layla smiled at them, and slumped down with a content sigh beside Magenta, who merely frowned at her.

"Hm? Not-so-good morning then?" Layla asked her friends sympathetically, noticing their anxious expressions.

"Hey_ Layla!_"Larry called from in front of them, waggling his eyebrows.

"Hi Larry," Layla reluctantly replied, embarrassed. She sent a confidential look to Magenta, waiting for a joke, but instead watched her friend's face melt from puzzlement to horrified shock.

"_You don't know._"

"Don't know what?" Layla immediately asked.

Several students sitting within earshot gasped.

"Oh my gawd, you're gonna be _soooo_ mad-" The beach-ball girl started breathlessly, but Zach spoke over her.

"- Because Ron Wilson, _Superhero_, accidentally let out the elephants from the zoo when he was, uh, battling a giant, uh, cloud monster yesterday." Zach, clearly drawing from his surroundings as he looked out the window, valiantly tried to cover for Will.

Layla threw a hand over her mouth in suspense. "Are they okay?!"

"They're fine." Ethan supplied when Zach started stuttering. "Yep. People have already forgotten it happened."

"I know I did," muttered the acid-spitting Hero-Classer, who had been listening in, from behind them.

Magenta glared at him from over her shoulder.

"Oh thank goodness, we're almost there," Ethan announced with relief, pointing to the familiar floating silhouette of the school far off in the sky.

"So have you talked to Will today?" Larry asked, his voice oozing with weaselly triumph.

Layla shifted in her seat, uncomfortable at the question. "Not yet. He probably called last night, but I was out and missed it. Why?"

Magenta felt a sick foreboding flash through her, and she shook her head softy. "Oh yeah... Warren."

"Aw man... I forgot you went to Warren's..." Zach said too loudly.

"You and _Warren_ got back together?!" Larry practically shouted at Layla.

Layla felt her irritation rise with the blush in her face, but quelled it when she noticed just how many eyes were watching her in anticipation. "Warren and I were never _together_, Larry."

"You and Warren _finally_ got together?!" Layla suddenly wished that they were seated in a baseball stadium instead of a school bus, so that she would be justified in throwing the inflatable girl behind them out the window.

"No way! Would you guys lay off! We're here!" In an uncharacteristic display of chivalry, Ethan defended Layla, and motioned out the window towards the floating High School. "Maybe you should be more worried about your own love lives than Layla's."

Magenta reached across the aisle and pulled Zach back down into his seat by the hem of his shirt. If she and her friends were the last off the bus, there was a better chance of blocking any potential gossip from Layla's ears. Plus, the students in front of them could be used as meat shields in case there was an altercation on the way in. She really didn't want to be turned into a human popsicle because she got caught in the crossfire in a battle between some Juniors and Seniors. The damsel-in-distress routine was really more Ethan's deal than hers.

"Oh no," Zach uttered, stopping right in front her when he got off of the bus, forcing Magenta to stand awkwardly just inside the doors, both feet on different steps.

"Layla, I need to talk to you. Now. Privately," Warren's voice carried over the stifled gasps of the other Sophomores, and she peeked around Zach's shoulder to witness Warren walking away with Layla, his hand wrapped protectively around her arm.

"Do you feel that?" Zach asked her, finally letting her off of the bus. People across campus were pointing at Layla and Warren, who were traveling to a secluded patch of grass, heedless of all the attention they were getting.

"Feel what?" Magenta asked, slapping down the hand of a Freshman who was just beginning to raise his index finger towards her two friends who were definitely not dating, no matter what beach-ball girl gushed to a crowd of Juniors as they passed.

"Was it the school jerking in a pre-malfunction lurch before we all go careening down through the clouds to our deaths?" Magenta decided that Ethan had major, major, issues - the kind he might need to pay a professional one hundred dollars an hour to talk to him for. Because she was going to stop if he kept saying things like that.

"Dude. _No_." Zach glanced nervously around them, as though he was searching for someone.

"What is it?" Magenta wondered, spinning around in a circle as they neared the school, and starting to walk backwards facing Zach and Ethan.

Zach shrugged, and sneaked a peak over his shoulder to check on Warren and Layla. They were sitting on the campus ground, having an intense conversation. Zach couldn't help but notice that blood-red flowers had sprung up around where Layla's fingers were splayed in the grass. The feeling of being watched receded the farther they got from the two non-lovebirds, and Zach chalked it up to wishful thinking. Life was a stage and everyone was his audience - but it always seemed like they only bought tickets because the show that they wanted was all sold out.

"Eh... must just be my overactive sense-of-impending-doom gland, guys."

"I gotta get me one 'a those..." Ethan said, and neither of his friends were sure if he was kidding.

* * *

"So this Hayden guy can go invisible? I didn't know anyone here at the school had that power," Layla pondered, an arms gripping her backpack in her lap as she listened to Warren's epiphany.

He dragged her out to a sequestered area of the campus where the two of them took a seat on the ground, Warren sitting cross-legged, and Layla perching with her legs folded underneath her. It had been a surprise to see him standing right outside the bus waiting for her, but everyone seemed to be acting odd today. She hadn't realized that elephants meant so much to so many of her peers.

"He doesn't advertise it. The only time I ever saw him activate his power was during Power Placement. I haven't seen him since." After Layla left last night, Warren had lain in bed, waiting up to hear the comforting sound of his mother's keys jangling in the front door before he drifted off to sleep. Watching the shadows shift on his darkened bedroom ceiling as cars drove down the street outside reminded him of what he saw at school that day, and in the half dreaming haze of reminiscence, he remembered another time he'd felt that eerie tingling over two years ago.

"Did he drop out?" Layla asked, clenching her fingers in the still dew-moist blades of grass. Without her volition, poppies sprouted and blossomed between her fingers, and she could feel the gently insistent pulsing underneath her hand where more wished to flower.

Warren was very paranoid, and it showed. His eyes kept twitching whenever he saw a flash of movement, trying to discern whether there was anything suspicious about it. When a security drone buzzed a little too close to them he nearly barbecued it out of nerves alone. "I don't know. They only roll-call on the first day of class, and I don't ever pay attention. All of the teachers are well aware that _Warren Peace_ is sitting in the room, so why bother?"

"Right." It was always uncomfortable for Layla when Warren pretended not to lament his family situation. But she wasn't sure if it would be any easier if he was honest about how much it really hurt him, and she didn't know if she was strong enough to put him back together if he ever fell apart dealing with it. "Why would he even show up if that was his power? Why not just chronically skip?"

"No clue. But for all we know, he showed up for his first day, activated his power, and never turned it off."

"What about his parents?"

"They're dead. His older brothers raised him from what I remember hearing. One of them is Father Lightning, and the other is General Ocean."

Both men were prominent figures in the hero community, each known for their massive control over natural forces. Layla had even met General Ocean in passing once, years ago, when he, the Commander, and Jetstream were on their way to the Secret Sanctum for an important briefing. She'd fleetingly spied him waving from his wrist to her through Mr. Stronghold's study doorway. She remembered a rugged man clad in turquoise and black with wise green eyes and a gray-flecked goatee, but Will pulled her away to see his new acoustic guitar before she could ever wave back. She wondered if he would still seem so much larger-than-life now that she was well over three feet tall.

Layla fondly recalled Will's terrible song about different kinds of snack foods that he'd composed that night, and sighed.

Mistakenly interpreting her sigh as one of frustration, Warren continued. "It would be easy enough to check his name against the Junior roster, but even if we tried to run him through the student database we still have one major problem."

Layla smiled a tight cynical grimace. "The computers are still down."

"Yeah. And without the school mainframe, we have no way of accessing a student list. Thanks to the overprotective security measures used to safeguard all of these superheroes' _prides and joys_, we're pretty much screwed."

Layla frowned, then jumped at an idea. "What about a yearbook?! Wouldn't his photo be in there?"

Warren shifted in the grass, lifting one knee to prop his chin on. "It's worth a try. But I wouldn't count on it; it's as easy as faking a cough to get out of school picture day - trust me."

"But you said it's worth a try. Maybe he's in one of yours. If he's here, he's in your class, right?"

Warren looked away from her. "I don't have my yearbooks. We prioritize according to budget, and they're not exactly considered "essentials" in my household."

Layla immediately spoke up as though he hadn't made the admission at all. "I have mine from last year. Hayden may be in it. If you want, you can come over to my place and check it out with me."

Warren started to respond, but she interrupted him. "My mom will be home, but if that makes you uncomfortable we can just go over to Will's instead. We're the house-sitters until the Strongholds get back, and they wouldn't mind if it was you and me." Layla could tell by way he narrowed his eyes that he might be doubting whether the Stronghold patriarch felt that way too.

"Come on. We'll just sneak in Will's room through his window, we won't even have to tell anyone we're over there. How will they even know, right?"

Warren finally re-focused on her, and shrugged. "What they don't know can't hurt them."

The five-minute warning bell rang across campus, so the two of them gathered their belongings and headed into the building. "All righty then. I'll see you later," Layla said as they parted ways in the hall.

"Try asking the teachers about Hayden. Some of them ought to remember he exists, even if most of them have undiagnosed cases of early onset Alzheimer's," Warren suggested wryly, turning his back on her.

"Okay." She watched him go and a rush of warmth flickered within her. Warren was a diamond in the rough, and it still surprised her whenever she caught the sparkling glimmer of his friendship in the light. "Hey Warren?"

He stopped, but didn't look at her, instead cocking his head so that an ear was aimed towards her.

"About tonight... You don't mind riding trees, do you?"

He exhaled loudly, then shook his head and kept walking. "If I _ask_, that means she wins," she heard him mutter to himself.

She went to class laughing.

Down the hall, mere feet from where they were standing moments ago, resolute footsteps echoed down the empty corridor.

* * *

"It still isn't up?" Principal Powers asked, observing the computer technicians move in a flurry about the room.

On the most part, the crew looked busy, but none of the teachers were sure that they knew what they were doing. One technician was standing over a monitor, whispering. Another kept plugging and unplugging the same flash drive. Three of them were going through a complicated method of testing the reception of a wireless mouse. At least, that's what Principal Powers assumed they were doing, because it looked a lot like they were playing keep away, otherwise. Another three had a wire stretched across the room, one holding each end, while one in the middle hopped as they swung it in an arc - _okay_, now those guys were just playing jump rope!

"This is disgusting. Terrible. Why do we pay them? You know, I once had a student who could have fixed this up faster than a clone's ability to lose its mind and go on a blood-soaked rampage," Dr. Medulla said to the Principal, a giant vein throbbing in his giant forehead. "Unfortunately, you allowed her to be thrown into jail, so don't think for a second that I'm sharing my jet-pack with any of you when the Anti-Gravity device fails and you all die."

"In case you forget, that's _why_ she's in prison, Dr. Medulla," Mr. Boy reminded, nervously eying a CD-Drive that kept opening, spitting out sparks, and closing again.

"Plus she turned you into a baby," Coach Boomer mentioned, clapping Dr. Medulla heartily on the back.

Stars erupted in Dr. Medulla's eyes. "And wasn't I just _adooorable_?"

It was the school lunch hour, and while the students enjoyed their meals, the teachers gathered in the computer lab to check on the progress made on the mainframe. The Principal still hadn't sent out any letters to parents informing them of a possible malfunction, because she wanted to know what had caused the potential catastrophe in the first place. She saw the head technician making a beeline towards her, and from his grave expression, had a feeling she was about to find out.

"Principal Powers? We've isolated the origin of the worm," he declared, brandishing a clipboard. He glanced pointedly at the group of educators milling around her, signaling that this was confidential information for her ears only.

"_Wonder_ful. Who did this to us?" The teaching staff drew into a tight bundle, flanking her closely and peering around her body, causing the Principal to appear to the technician like a power-suit clad hat-rack adorned with human heads.

"Um, actually, _you_ did."

"I _knew_ it!" Dr. Medulla shouted, pumping a fist in the air.

"Me too! At first I assumed, "Nah, it can't be her," but then I thought, "What if it was her? No one would suspect her." But then I figured, "No, that's exactly what the real criminal would want me to think," so I thought, "No," but _then_ I thought "Well, if it were her, then that's exactly what _she_ would want me to think!" So in the end-"

"- Is where I'm going to stick my foot, if you don't _shut-up_!" Coach Boomer yelled over Mr. Boy, turning on him. "Now this is ridiculous! Principal Powers would never do such a thing!"

"Oh, don't misunderstand me, I don't mean this nice Principal lady here, I mean the school. This virus came from within the school," the technician explained, motioning towards the spastic computers behind him with his clipboard. "Yep, we got it tracked as startin' out in this very room."

"I smell a conspiracy..." Dr. Medulla uttered, still sizing up Principal Powers with suspicion.

"You're saying one of our students did this?" The Principal attempted to clarify, ignoring Dr. Medulla.

"I'm saying any malicious person with the ability to log-in," the tech drawled, scowling at Dr. Medulla, "_including teachers_, could have been the one to maliciously release this malicious virus into your system."

"That's just malicious! I don't feel safe! I feel unsafe!" Mr. Boy gibbered, doing an anxious little dance in place.

"Calm down Mr. Boy, I'm sure that we are all secure at the moment. Otherwise your technicians wouldn't feel comfortable enough to waste time playing _Sockball_," Principal Powers scolded, raising an eyebrow at a group of technicians standing in a circle behind their boss. One of them had removed one of his socks, stuffed it with balled-up paper, tied it off, and now they were throwing it at one technician who was ducking and weaving in the center, like they were playing a smellier version of Dodgeball.

The technician cleared his throat gruffly, and the men "working" behind him froze, then slowly dispersed and attended to various computers around the lab. One of them sheepishly unrolled the sock, and bent down slide it back on.

The head technician continued as though nothing had happened. "We're still functioning on high power, but we may be forced to switch over to auxiliary within the next few days in order to prevent the worm from infiltrating the reverse-electromagnetic core." Coach Boomer shook off Mr. Boy, who was clinging to his arm. "But in the meantime, my men and I will be hunting for the identity of the person responsible through what little login records we were able to recover."

"Do you have any leads?" Principal Powers asked coolly, her professionalism intact despite the screwball antics of her staff. The technician hesitated, but at the Principal's secret nod and eye roll, he went on nervously.

"Just one. The corrupted files were accessed around 11:30 am, yesterday."

The group of educators behind Principal Powers gasped. "**Lunch time!**"

Hushed by this revelation, or perhaps by the Principal's hawk-like glare, most of the teaching staff decided to return to their respective natural habitats.

"I'm going to go see Nurse Spex - I think I'm starting to get a... heart palpitation," Mr Boy wheezed, scurrying away.

"I'll keep you posted!" Principal Powers called to them flatly as they went their separate ways. Then she turned back to the technician and sighed. "All right. So who's the primary suspect?"

After making sure that no one was eavesdropping from out in the hall, the computer tech answered quietly. "Yesterday, a student of yours logged onto your network during lunch time and methodically infected every file they could gain access to."

Hiding her disappointment, Principal Powers pressed on. "Does this student have a name?"

"A recovered back-up file revealed the encrypted login ID of _Will Stronghold_."

* * *

"_Can't play Save the Citizen if manual remote control over the rotating spiked death apparatus has been compromised_," Coach Boomer repeated mockingly. "Well maybe they shouldn't have built _robotic_ _legs _underneath it if they never planned on using them."

Boomer paced mopily around the raised circle platform in the school gym, every once in a while listlessly blowing the whistle around his neck. Save the Citizen was canceled due to a malfunction during the test run of the mechanical _Hostage Mulcher_ _v3.1_ that was normally elevated up through the gym floor during the event. And earlier that morning, two Juniors had nearly had a car dropped on them when they were running laps before class. Coach Boomer pointed out that spontaneity and adaptation were required in Heroes _and_ Sidekicks, so any danger to spectators during the proceedings was purely in their own best interest. He was overruled by Principal Powers, however, and now the students were enjoying a free hour when they should have been cowering in fear - eh, _learning_.

"Coach Boomer!"

A red-headed Sidekick girl jogged towards him, cautiously checking around her for unwanted falling vehicles, or randomly activated springboards under her feet as she neared.

"Whaddya want, Sidekick?" Boomer demanded obnoxiously, his hands on his hips.

"I need to ask you about something - a student of yours," she whispered once she reached him, thankfully unscathed.

Boomer narrowed his eyes at her, and then tilted back his head in remembrance. "Ooohhh."

"This is going to sound like a strange question, but do you remember - "

"_Dump him_. That's my advice," Boomer interrupted. "And while it's not really my place, I'm glad that you feel you can come to me with this kind of problem. Any other Sidekick who got burned like you did would be whining like a little whiner baby."

"What?"

Boomer scrutinized her more closely, struggling to come up with her name. "Layla, right? You're that flower child that's been dating Will Stronghold." He chuckled. "I can only imagine the day you've been having, huh?"

Layla frowned, confused. "Um... yeah, actually it has been kind of weird. I feel like I missed a day or something."

Coach Boomer glanced around surreptitiously to ensure that they were alone. "Well buck up, kid. It's perfectly normal to get cheated on in High School. Happens to everybody - even _Heroes_," he added, pointing his thumb at himself, and winking.

"I - Will wouldn't - what are you talking about? Is this about the elephants again?" Layla's eyes were wide, and she stood stalk still, in shock.

Boomer glared disdainfully down at her, his sympathy gone. "Get with the program, _Sidekick_. It's been all over the news. Stronghold was caught on camera, making-out with some half-dressed village girl he rescued over in _Nowhere, South America_ with his 'rents," he spit out, shaking his head at her. "In the future, try expending more energy on _current events_, instead of hugging trees and not eating dolphins."

With his aggression suddenly dissipated, Coach Boomer grunted cockily, and strode off the platform with a skip in his step. "Oh, I can't wait to see how this effects his dynamic with Peace in _Save the Citizen_ once Stronghold gets back," he enthused cheerfully. "The dreamteam's reign is _**over!**_"

His echoing voice shook the rafters above the gym when he left, and a body came hurtling down towards the mute girl standing on the platform, where it stopped with a jerk right above her head, and swung pathetically back and forth by a rope, helpless.

_"Save me!"_

Layla slowly gazed up into the painted eyes of the nameless female hostage that Will had first heroically rescued over a year ago.

_"Save me!"_

He hadn't let her down since. She was the longest "living" hostage in Save the Citizen history.

_"Save me!"_

Green thorned vines crept down from the ceiling, undulating like snakes. They reached the blond dummy, wrapped tautly around its arms, legs, and neck, and began to pull.

"Oh, save yourself," Layla uttered in disgust. As she turned to walk down from the platform, the dummy exploded in a rain of powder and limbs from behind her. Unmoved, she strolled out of the gym, her eyes rimmed red with unshed tears.

After she was gone, footsteps approached the remains of the hostage with something like awe. The decapitated female head rose into the air, facing her invisible carrier with scared, dead eyes.

"Don't you just love it when everything comes together all of its own accord?"

* * *

Author's Notes: Yes, I know that this chapter took forever, and I'm sorry for those of you who were waiting. Oddly enough, this is the first story I've ever written that has more Story Alerts than reviews. Huh? Good to know people like it though - I enjoy this story too much to abandon it, and actually look forward to starting the next chapter. Let me know if you look forward to reading it with that little purple button! 


	5. Seeds of Discontent

Disclaimer: Okay, fine, I don't own Sky High. I only said I did to look cool, alright? Gawd, you ruin everything.

* * *

**Seeds of Discontent**

* * *

It was early afternoon, but the welcoming sunlight of the Sao Paulo sky was obstructed by the long curtains pulled over the window. A soft, gently floral-scented breeze wafted through the open window, slightly billowing the curtains, and Will sighed. He had been sitting on the hard hotel bed for hours now, watching his cell phone for any sign of movement or sound. It lay still on the nightstand, mocking him with its silent, shiny motionlessness.

Two nights ago the figurative bomb had been dropped on all of the international news venues. When the Stronghold Three arrived at their next destination, he was mortified to discover that even the Brazillian news channels had been running the story about him and his new "lady love" non-stop. He had hardly spoken to his parents since he caught sight of the headline on the front page of the local paper yesterday morning, and they were starting to get worried.

The night the story aired, Ethan had texted him asking if he was going to call Layla, Zach had texted him asking when he was calling Layla, Magenta had sent him a text telling him he needed to call Layla, and Warren sent him a message that simply read "Call her now, you idiot."

He decided not to answer whenever anyone's but Layla's number registered on his caller ID, just in case she might be calling at the same time that he was responding to his friends. After a long wait, he realized that this was probably being more than a little neurotic, and resolved to suck it up and face the consequences. Last night, he'd tried to call her. She didn't answer the first try, nor on the other six after that. He left messages on her voice mail, telling her that it was a misunderstanding, it only looked like he was returning the kiss, it wasn't his fault.

It felt like the deja vu that nightmares were made of. Once again, he'd gone and broken Layla's heart with another girl, and she didn't even want to speak to him. Except this time, he knew that he wasn't the bad guy.

Yesterday afternoon, he'd received a text message from a number he didn't recognize. When he tried to call the number back, no one would pick up. It wasn't the suspicious circumstances that alarmed him; it was the content of the message.

_All is fair in love and war - and it looks like Warren wants a piece of your girlfriend. Hurry home. _

And so he sat, staring at the phone, waiting for Layla to call him.

It was a lie, of course. Of _course_. For one, Warren had never really been interested in Layla that way. Their whole "dating" game they played last year was a hoax, designed to hurt him, and to get his attention. But they were just friends. Their relationship was platonic, just like his and Warren's. Just like his and Layla's used to be.

_Just like you and Layla used to be._

"Will, honey, you want lunch?" called his mother from outside. Will stood up and dejectedly pulled aside the curtains to reveal Jetstream hovering outside his hotel room window, one story off of the ground.

Josie Stronghold noticed with concern that her son's eyes were red, he was still in his pajamas, and his shoulders were slumped. He looked completely bed-wraggled and disconnected.

"The hotel staff have offered to make us lunch, and your father's going to be grilling the chicken for the enchiladas. They're setting the table on the gazebo right now. Should be delicious-"

"I'm not really hungry, mom," muttered Will, and began to block her out with the curtains.

Josie swept the curtains aside, and stepped into his hotel room. "Will, you've been like a ghost the last few days. We hardly see you, and when we do, it's like you're not even there. Please, just come down and have lunch with us."

"I'd rather not, mom. Every time I try to eat with that ski-mask on, crumbs get stuck to it around my mouth. It makes me look like a scruffy _Power Ranger_."

Josie remained upbeat. "Well, then I can bring you a plate, and we can have lunch in here, just the two of us," she suggested. "We haven't done that in quite a while. Besides, your father loves having a devoted crowd all to himself."

Will shook his head, and returned to his position of sitting on the edge of the bed, watching his phone. "Thanks, but I'm not hungry."

Recognizing that she was waltzing dangerously close to nagging territory, Jetstream changed tactics. "Honey, you've got to stop beating yourself up over what happened the other day. Layla will understand."

Will lowered his head into his hands. "She won't even answer her phone, mom."

Josie laid a gentle hand on her son's shoulder. "Then there's nothing else you can do. Something like this, you just have to give a girl some time to think. Trust me, if Layla's as good of a girlfriend to you as she always was a friend," Will nodded vigorously, still holding his head, "then she'll see through all of the media hype, and remember the sweet boy who's had a crush on her since the second grade."

Will's head snapped up, hinting for the first time all morning that a spark of life remained within him. "_Mom! _I didn't like Layla then." His tone had the annoyed teenager whine that only a mother could bring about when mentioning a potential crush.

Josie made a lame attempt to hide her smile. "Of course you did, honey, You just didn't know it yet. A mother can tell these things."

Will faintly shook his head, as if fighting off her attempt to brighten his spirits. "It doesn't matter now."

With a sigh, Josie sat down next to Will on the edge of the bed. She pulled him to her with an arm slung across his back so that he rested his head on her shoulder. "Did you know that this exact same thing has happened to your father and I?"

"Hm-mm," responded Will weakly in the negative.

"Oh, yes. It happens to the best of us, I'm afraid. People find Superheroes so darn charismatic, they don't think about how kissing their rescuer will effect that hero's secret identity. Not to mention their secret identity's significant other. And since Layla's never struck me as the hypocritical type, you shouldn't worry. She's so pretty, Will, that I'm sure she'll have to turn down her fair share of over-grateful civilians herself, Sidekick or not."

"_What?!_" Will awoke from his lethargy in an instant. "Whaddya mean?"

"It's just an occupational hazard, honey. Women in the hero biz have a bit more to fight off than the typical male hero," Josie explained patiently. "As an extreme example, take most Supervillains. Nine out of ten times, they target the person whom their archenemy loves. If the girl or boy happens to be involved in crimefighting too, that's like hitting the lottery. Two birds, one stone."

Pulling himself away from his mom, Will stood up and started pacing around the room again. "But you and dad are fine. You guys deal with it, so it can't be that big of a deal."

"That's because we always looked out for each other. We'd made a commitment. But some Supervillains become fixated, and make it their mission in life to possess the Superheroine who they believe they "love." It can get very messy, and usually ends badly," lamented Jetstream, eyes distant. "The politically correct term for it is called the _Hades Syndrome_. Sky High offers a class on it for students in their Senior year. You should take it, if you're still interested," Josie offered with an encouraging smile.

Will went still, then turned to his mother thoughtfully. "Is that what happened with Warren's parents?"

Josie sighed, and shook her head sadly. "I _wish_. No, their relationship was something else. Those two had real love between them, which only made things worse. A Supervillain stalker is one thing, but living with the fact that the man you love is also a dangerous criminal who you've sworn to bring to justice? I can't even imagine the kinds of painful emotional and ethical issues a woman wrestles with, knowing that."

"Hmm. Glad I'm a good guy," pondered Will.

"I'm sure that Layla agrees," Josie said with a grin.

Will threw himself backwards across the bed, nearly knocking his mother off. "Sorry. I just don't know how to deal when she won't talk to me."

"I know it won't make you feel any better, but you've just got to give her time, hun. I promise that things will work themselves out." Josie smoothed his bangs with her fingers, then got up and headed for the window. "If your stomach decides it's feeling empty and alone, come on down and have lunch with us, okay, Will?"

Will grunted in response. Soon he was left alone again, with only his anxiety-ridden thoughts to keep him company. He glanced at his phone on the nightstand with one eye open, even though he knew that it was pointless. The sheets felt cool under his arms, and the ceiling was a comforting shade of white oblivion. With no recourse left, Will closed his eyes, and waited.

* * *

"I can't believe she blew you off like that, man," lamented Zach, shaking his head pityingly at Warren, who was brooding on the front steps of the school.

Warren was focusing intently on a stark white sheet of paper in his hand, and didn't respond.

"I can't believe she didn't show up today," added Magenta. She took a seat beside Warren (quickly followed by Zach, who sat on the other side of her), while Ethan stood awkwardly, unsure of whether or not he was welcome to sit next to Warren. Finally, he moved to the other side of Warren, and sunk down beside him. Other students passed them on their way to class, going by unnoticed by the group.

"And Will won't even text back to say he knows that the news channels are showing it on TV. Layla must have heard about it, even though we tried to keep the whole thing under wraps," decided Zach. "She hardly said a word on the bus trip home yesterday."

"I tried calling her late last night to see how she was, but she wouldn't pick up. Even when she and Will are oceans apart, they still manage to exhibit the exact same irritating behavior," snarked Magenta. "It's like they're a match made in some annoying place where no one knows how to use a phone."

"It figures that Will leaves, and everything goes straight down the toilet," Ethan grouched, arranging his limbs so that they mirrored Warren's slouched, careless posture.

"I guess you would know, huh, Ethan, being the expert on swirlies and all," ribbed Zach, and stood up to stretch, his arms thrown over his peroxide blond head. "I dunno about you guys, but I'm not gonna let Will and Layla's relationship problems rust this playa's silver lining."

Magenta scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"We've got bigger problems, anyway," intoned Warren, speaking for the first time since they'd met him on the front steps. "Read this." He handed the paper he had been pouring over to Magenta.

"Hmm? Ohhhkaay... The computer virus? ...But why would-!? Wha - just because you were "unaccounted for" at lunch, they think you did it? Oh, they can't be serious!" exclaimed Magenta angrily. "When did they give you this?"

"My mother found it in the mail this morning after she got home from her double shift. You should have seen her face. It was _awesome_," Warren deadpanned sarcastically. "Gotta love a school with its own emergency overnight postal system. Who needs Fed-Ex when you've got mecha carrier-pigeons rigged with laser beams?"

Magenta glared down at the paper like it had spit on her, and shoved the letter across Warren to Ethan. "Can you believe this?!"

Ethan scanned the paper, adjusted his glasses and looked closer, then passed it back to Warren. "So what does that mean, exactly?"

"What does what mean?" Zach asked, and was ignored.

"It means that they think that I'm the one who used Will's ID to plant the virus," Warren replied, watching the space between his feet.

"Well, you can't blame them. It was obviously you, considering that you're the technological genius who's holding a grudge against Will, and has a history of trying to drop the school out of the sky," said Magenta darkly.

"That's not Warren," stated Zach in confusion, frowning.

Ethan gasped. "_Gwen!_"

Zach jumped and glanced around. "Where!?"

"Would you sit down and stop being an idiot?!" commanded Magenta, and pulled Zach down next to her by the hem of his shirt. "No more coffee. It's bad for your health. And I mean that in the most threatening way possible."

"I don't think so," disagreed Warren. "There's too many strings being pulled at once for Gwen to be the only puppeteer."

"You think that she's working with someone?" asked Ethan, his eyes wide and frightened.

"Someone inside the school... of course. Gwen has an accomplice," Magenta muttered, and shook her head. "But who would help her? Is there even anyone left in this school who _doesn't_ love Will?"

Warren's jaw clenched in grim recognition. "Maybe one. And that's not counting all of the people still around who hate me," he sneered. "One of the perks of being a Supervillain's son: you're always guilty until proven innocent."

"Man, that sucks and is not okay," Zach said sympathetically.

"Well, we've gotta do something!" announced Ethan, right before the five-minute warning bell went off.

"Can't," said Warren, who stood up abruptly, and started for the front doors behind them. "I get to be locked in the detention center all day to make sure that I'm not going to get impatient with the virus, and just decide to roast everybody instead." He walked away from them, not looking back. "If you hear from Layla, let me kn- " recalling that communication was impossible in the Detention Center, Warren amended his request. "... Just tell her I said _hi_."

His friends watched him go sadly, then turned back around to immediately work on a plan.

"Okay. I have an idea," informed Magenta. "But we're going to have to split up."

"Sounds serious. To be safe, we'd better have teams. Me and Magenta on one, and Ethan on the other," suggested Zach, in an innocent voice that no one was buying.

"No, that's not gonna work," decided Magenta, before Ethan had the chance to react.

"Ha! Looks like you're the odd man out, Zach," Ethan bragged proudly. "Magenta and I can be a team, and _you_ get to be alone."

Magenta cut off Zach's response. "No, that's not gonna work either."

"What?!" exclaimed Zach and Ethan at the same time.

"I need you guys to work together on this. You get the easy job; I'm the one who has to convince Layla to crawl out of bed."

"What can Layla do?" asked Ethan.

"What do we get to do?" inquired Zach.

Magenta smirked slyly. "It's pretty insane. You sure you wanna know?"

If anything, Zach only became more excited. "Are you kidding? We only live once. And therapy is way more common than people think. Hit me."

Ethan looked on nervously.

"We're going to pay a visit to Gwen Grayson."

* * *

Idiots.

It was kind of irritating how they thought that they could make a difference. Walking by unnoticed had been surprisingly easy, considering that Warren had that creepy proximity-sensing habit of his. He must have been distracted over the little reprimand he'd received from the school.

Big, bad Warren. Not so scary when it came to getting into trouble with his _mommy_, was he?

His precious Sidekicks thought they could bail him out by scraping together what little brain cells they had, and formulating some primitive excuse for a plan.

Fine. Let them try. They couldn't save him.

He'd dug his own grave long ago. If you force people to see you as a villain for long enough, sooner or later they're going to start believing you.

The school didn't trust him, his peers feared him, and there was no Will Stronghold around to show them the light.

And if all went well, by the time Will got back, he would be the first in line to condemn his backstabbing former friend.

Warren Peace was going down in flames.

* * *

Author's Notes: Yikes. Finally, a new chapter. I originally was going to make it much longer, but it was starting to take a while and I felt bad that I hadn't updated. The next chapter is over a third done, and will be much funnier than this one. In fact, it's one of the reasons I wanted to write this story in the first place. I hope this teeny transitional chapter will tide you over for a while longer. Also, Sao Paulo is actually one of the richest cities on the planet, but I like how it sounded, so the Stronghold Three are staying there for the day instead of some dilapidated hut in a third world county. They are celebrities, afterall...

Anyway, thanks for reading, and don't forget to review! Will Will find his way back into Layla's heart? Is Warren going to take the fall of his high school career (along with the school building itself)? Can I ever find a way for Zach's power to be useful? Oh, and has Gwen Grayson changed her hair?! Find out in the next installment! Or perhaps the one after that, I'm not sure yet!


	6. Going Out on a Limb

Disclaimer: After being brutally murdered by Doomsday, months and months later, I have triumphantly returned from the dead to post this chapter. And they still won't give me Sky High! What's it_ take_, Disney!?

* * *

**Going Out on a Limb**

* * *

"I'm nervous."

"Don't be nervous, man."

"Easy for you to say. We're not using your phone."

"No, because I follow the rules and don't bring mine to school, you delinquent."

"Ha ha. I just don't think this plan is gonna work, is all."

"Shh! Shut-up, it's ringing."

Ethan and Zach were crouched facing each other behind a green cot turned on its side in one of Nurse Spex's offices, experiencing severe charley horses. At least, that's what they told Mr. Boy and Nurse Spex. She'd come in to check in on them a few minutes before, but they'd hidden so that she would assume that they'd recovered and gone back to class. They needed a quiet space where they wouldn't be disturbed, and an empty room in the nurse's office was the perfect spot.

It was half an hour until school's out, and Zach and Ethan were completing the mission that Magenta had assigned to them. Using Ethan's cell phone (which got amazing reception considering the high altitude), they were going to call one of the many facilities where evildoers were detained and try to schedule a meeting with The Stronghold Three's most diabolical arch-nemesis. The legendary one that got thrown in jail. No, the _other_ one that got thrown in jail... _Gwen Grayson_.

After three rings, someone finally answered the phone.

_"Tragic Villain Rehabilitation Center for Youths, my name is Eric, how can I help you?"_

Zach, cupping the cell phone to his ear, cleared his throat operatically, and said in a high-pitched, nasally voice:

"Hello, Eric. My name is Will Stronghold. I possess the Superpowers of Super-strength and Flight, and my parents are The Commander, who is my father, and Jetstream, who is my mother. I am sixteen years old, stocky, and a somewhat dour brunette."

Ethan was waving his hands emphatically at him with a stricken look on his face, but Zach waved him off, and continued.

_"... Alright. And how may I help you, Mr. Stronghold?"_

Zach laughed exaggeratedly into the phone. "Please, Eric, Mr. Stronghold is my father's name. Just call me Will."

_"Okay, Will, how can I-"_

"Actually, call me _William_. I like that better," corrected Zach, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

Ethan smacked himself on the forehead with his palm.

_"... Is there a reason for your call today, sir?"_

Zach scowled down at the phone, then put it back up to his ear. "Dude, _Eric_, I just told you to call me -"

Ethan reached over and quickly flicked him on the nose with his middle finger. Zach blinked once in confusion, then immediately continued with the original plan.

" - Will is fine. It's fine. And, yeah, actually I called to talk to one of your criminals." Zach gave Ethan a thumbs up, and Ethan only shook his head in exasperation. "Can Gwen come to the phone?"

"_Last name, please?"_

"Stronghold."

_"Gwen Stronghold?"_

"No, Gwen Grayson. There's a Gwen Stronghold in there?"

Ethan narrowly resisted the urge to tear out his own hair. And then move on to Zach's.

_"Um, let me check the computer for Gwen Grayson, sir- Will- William - whatever... It'll just be a moment... Wait, is true that __**you're**__ the one who finally detained Royal Pain?!"_

Zach became enthused by the excitement in Eric's voice when he asked the question. "Ha! Yeah, you know it! Me and my peeps put that biz-nitch behind bars, yo!"

Ethan grabbed Zach by the shoulders and shook him. "What are you doing?! You're supposed to be _Will_, remember? Will doesn't talk like that! _Nobody_ talks like that!" he whispered in panic. "Magenta's gonna freak if we screw this up!"

Zack brushed Ethan's arms off him in agitation, then dusted off imaginary flecks of dirt. "Chill, man. Let a master do his work, homie," he whispered back.

_"Hmm... We don't seem to have any Gwen Graysons listed in our database as being in custody, Will. Can I help you with anything else?" _

"What? You mean she isn't there!? But Magenta said this was the place!" Zach put his hand over the phone and turned to Ethan, his eyes wide. "Oh my God! She's escaped! Eric said she ain't there, man!"

"What?" Ethan asked, almost afraid to hear Zach's explanation.

"Gwen's not there! She could be anywhere! She could be here, at the school! She could be _right behind __you_!"

Ethan whipped around, and saw nothing but the Eye Examination chart on the wall. When he turned back around to witness Zach grinning cheerfully at him, something inside snapped.

"That's_ it! Gimme the phone_!" Ethan commanded, and started to wrestle it away from Zach.

"No way!" Zach wiggled around, trying to shake Ethan off, but managed to stay in a crouching position. To an outside observer, it would look like the two of them were acting out a game of Rock'em Sock'em Robots. "Magenta left me in charge of the phone, and you're supposed to be the back-up guy!"

"And you need back-up, because you _suck_ at this! Your lights are on, Zach, but nobody's home! _Nobody's home_!"

After some more awkward tussling, in desperation, Ethan clasped his hands over Zach's and melted. He splashed in between Zach's fingers and onto the floor. Disgusted, Zach let go of the phone and Ethan instantly re-solidified himself, his cell phone gripped tightly in his hand.

"That's so nasty, man. Not okay, dude," whined Zach, his nose wrinkled in revulsion. He twisted his hand around by the wrist, trying to dispel any imaginary trace remains of Liqui-Ethan.

Ethan smirked, and put the phone to his ear.

_"Will? William? Mr. Stronghold? Hello? Are you still there?"_

"Yes, I'm still here. The reception is bad out here at the sch... place where I am now." Ethan's "Will voice" was much closer to how Will sounded in person than Zach's was. Now that Ethan thought about it, Zach's "Will voice" actually struck quite a resemblance to his own...

"She's not there anyway, man. Eric told me. I tried to tell you. You're the one without any lights on, or whatever," grouched Zach, who petulantly sunk down to a cross-legged position.

_"Is there anything else I can help you with, Will?"_

"As a matter of fact, there is," replied Ethan, who pinned Zach with a challenging stare. "I'd like to schedule a meeting with _Sue Tenney_, please."

"_Sue Tenney? You want to meet with Major Pain_?"

"That's right. Since I _am_ the one who brought her down. I'd like to see her this afternoon, if that's possible, Eric." Ethan did a goofy impersonation of the thumbs up that Zach had given him earlier.

Zach rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, chastised.

_"Well... I can have someone check if she'll agree, but she's our highest security inhabitant. And the most hostile. I wouldn't get my hopes up."_

"Oh, trust me, she'd love for me to pay her a visit. I'll have a guest, too. Tell _Sue_ that Will and Layla wanna come by and have a chat."

Zach nodded his head at Ethan in begrudging respect.

_"Okay, Will. Let me send out the request. I can have someone get a response within a few moments... So, does it feel strange to have your relationship splashed all over the news?"_

Ethan's mind went blank for a second, then he remembered that Eric was asking about the girl that Will had been kissing on the news. "Um, no, I mean, yes, it does feel strange, but I'm not having a relationship with her or anything. I have a girlfriend back home."

Zach snapped his fingers in front of Ethan's face. "Tell him that Layla's hotter than the other chick! That way, Layla will think that _Will_ said it!" he whispered, as though his idea would fix everything.

Ethan only frowned and shushed him.

_"Oh... so how's that working out with all of the...?"_

All of this talk of relationships was getting Ethan flustered, especially since he technically played no part in either scenario. He had no idea how Will might respond to this kind of interrogation, and it was making his palms sweaty scrambling for in-character answers.

"Actually, I don't really feel like talking about it. It's been pretty hard on everyone involved, and the whole thing's probably just a big misunderstanding, anyway."

_"Probably? But weren't you there? You would know if it was a - oh! Hey, thanks - that was fast."_

Eric seemed to be directing his comment to someone with him.

_"Well, I'm sorry about your relationship troubles, Will, but I do have some good news for you! Ms. Tenney agreed to meet with you and your guest. How does 5:30 pm this afternoon work for you?"_

Ethan covered the receiver with his thumb, and smiled triumphantly at Zach. "We're in! Gwen's got us booked for 5:30!"

"That's what I'm talkin' 'bout! You are da man, Ethan! Magenta's gonna think we rock!" Zach slapped Ethan an exuberant high five.

Ethan grinned and put the phone back to his mouth. "That's perfect, Eric. Thanks for all of your help."

_"It's been my pleasure, Will. Just remember that as a security precaution, the T.V.R.C.Y. facility requires that all technological devices remain outside a twenty-foot radius of Sue Tenney's room. That means no cell phones, mp3 players, hand held gaming devices, or anything else that needs to be plugged in or uses a battery. Understand?"_

"No problem. Heck, if I see anybody else near her with something like that, I'll tackle them myself. That's the last thing we need right now."

Zach snorted. "_You're_ gonna tackle somebody?"

Ethan glared. "Will would," he whispered.

"But Will wouldn't go splat all over them on contact. Look, hurry it up, huh, man? School's out in a few minutes, and we gotta give Magenta time to think of a way to get Layla outta bed before they can go over there. Tell Eric you gotta get off the phone," suggested Zach, keen on proving himself competent to a certain dark haired girl.

_"Alright then, you have a nice day, Will. This place is going to be buzzing when I tell them a member of the Stronghold Three called. Wait. How are you going to be here this afternoon when you're over there on your tour?"_

Ethan grit his teeth in frustration. "I'll just have to work something out. We'll see what happens. You have a nice day, too, Eric." Without waiting for a response, Ethan hit the end call button.

"So?" asked Zach, gingerly standing up from his crouch.

"So, we're good to go. We just let Magenta know, and she and Layla can keep the appointment instead of Will." Ethan stood as well, and stumbled over the cot towards the door.

Zach followed him. "Sweet! And you were worried that this wasn't going to work."

The door opened and Nurse Spex entered and stopped, noticing them standing there. "Worried that _what_ wasn't going to work?" she asked in surprise.

The two boys froze. Nurse Spex peered into the room behind them, and caught sight of the toppled over cot.

"Is that where you boys were earlier when I came in to check up on you?" She moved aside from the doorway, and motioned for them to leave. "Next time, I'll be sure to X-Ray the room for refugee students before assuming they returned to class."

Abashed, both boys exited the room with their heads down in the proper expression of shame.

"Let's go, _William_," Nurse Spex heard the shorter boy say as they left her office and shut the door.

She sighed fondly, and went to rearrange the cot that the boys had abused. Right when she reached down and grabbed it, something soft but firm slammed into her side, knocking the wind out of her and sending her sprawling. The force of her momentum spun her along with the cot, and she landed hard on her back on top the green tarp. Her eyes wide, she was amazed to witness the door fly back open on its own from across the room. Nurse Spex activated her X-Ray vision, and spotted a skeletal arm and leg for only an instant before the figure slipped out of the office and her line of sight.

Breathing hard, she let her head fall back down onto the cot, and clutched at her chest, feeling her labored heartbeat. "This school had better have one _heck_ of a retirement package."

* * *

Convincing Layla to emerge from the cocoon of blankets she was tangled up in on her bed had been an uphill battle. Suggesting she get up, get dressed and leave the house was harder than beating Will at thumb wrestling. And recruiting her to accompany Magenta on a trip to visit her old friend Gwen Grayson had been downright perilous.

But by the time Magenta was finished explaining Warren's predicament to her, Layla was up, dressed, and out the door, driven on by a searing sense of righteous indignation at the unbelievable injustice of Warren's situation.

Magenta's dad dropped them off at the Tragic Villain Rehabilitation Center for Youths without suspicion, since he was under the impression that Layla and Magenta were going there to volunteer for a class project. Magenta had already told him of Layla's humanitarian impulses in the past, so it was an easy tale to spin. The two girls watched him drive away, well aware that they only had a half hour to convince Gwen to tell them who she was helping to destroy Warren until Magenta's dad came back to get them.

The Center was fairly modern in design; from outside, it was a two story gray stone building comprised of sleek metal and spotless aquamarine-tinted glass. The parking lot held only a few vehicles, and when the two walked through the electronic glass doors, a loud buzzing heralded them into the empty lobby. Two perpendicular rows of uncomfortable chairs placed on the glaring white floor framed a television set mounted on the wall, and the bathrooms were in the corner with a water fountain. There were two small windows in the lobby with metal sliding trays under them and small speakers located at eye level where visitors could speak with employees. Magenta and Layla approached one of the windows, nervously eying the door to the right of them marked "**Clearance Required for Entrance**" in red.

"Hello," greeted a mousy young man sitting at a desk right behind the glass window. "How can I help you?"

Magenta saw that his name-tag read _Eric_. She pushed Layla forward by her shoulders. "She has an appointment with Gwe- Sue Tenney. Will Stronghold called earlier and scheduled it, but he won't be able to make it so I'm here in his place."

Layla smiled at him politely. "We're both old friends of Sue's. It shouldn't be a problem."

Eric's eyes lit up in recognition, and he pointed vaguely at Layla. "Okay, yeah. I kind of wondered how he was going to get here when he's so busy halfway across the globe."

"Yes. He's up to all kinds of things over there, I'm sure," mumbled Layla, clenching and un-clenching her fists as she spoke.

Sensing danger, Magenta tapped Layla on the shoulder. "You should probably show him your ID, Layla, so that we can get in there and get this over with."

Eric must have had good hearing, because he slid the silver metal tray forward, his eyebrows raised. "You can just put it in here, along with all of your electronic devices, and I can give you two some guest passes. I'd hate for you to arrive late to meet with Ms. Tenney."

"Hmph. Antsy, is she? I'm surprised that she even agreed," admitted Layla, shooting an impressed glance at Magenta beside her as they placed their belongings in the tray.

Magenta shrugged sardonically. "I'm just that good," she joked.

A buzzer beside the Clearance doors went off, and the sound of an airlock being released echoed through the deserted lobby. Eric slid two clip on plastic passes back through the tray, and the girls fastened them to their shirts.

"You're good to go. Sue Tenney is located in the second underground chamber. Just go through those doors, " Eric pointed to the Clearance entrance, "and take the stairs at the end of the hall two stories down. Ms. Tenney's cell is in the far right corner of the level, the last room on the floor. She's waiting."

"Thanks," said Layla, leading the way to the door.

"Wish us luck," Magenta muttered, before catching up with her.

"Forget luck, I wish you nerves of steel!" they heard Eric call out, just as the Clearance doors swung closed behind them.

The narrow hallway was lit with sickly green fluorescent lights and lined with several reinforced doors that had round porthole-like windows to look in through at inhabitants. Magenta and Layla quickly passed by the first few without incident, but the closer they got to the staircase at the end of the hallway, the more their trepidation rose.

"**Hey!**"

Both girls jumped, painfully slamming their backs into the wall on the other side of the cell doors.

A heavy-set boy peered through the porthole in the door across from them. He was upside down in a bright orange jumpsuit and his face was tinged pink with anger.

"**You!**" shouted Speed, his face shifting around slightly, framed by the porthole. It appeared that he was floating. "What are _you two_ doing here!?"

"We just came to see the blimp," retorted Magenta, pointing at his red, bloated visage.

A vein popped out in his forehead and his body shifted again until he was glaring at them sideways, his head floating horizontally in the window. "Just shut your pie-hole, Sidekick. If they didn't have me locked up in this Anti-Gravity Zero Friction Zone I'd come out there and spin you 'til you threw up."

"If I have to keep looking at your face for much longer, I might just hurl anyway," snarked Magenta. Speed tried to punch the window, but it only glanced off the glass and sent him slowly floating end-over-end farther back into his cell, flailing his arms futilely. He softly hit the far wall and bounced off of it, yelling in rage.

"Think he could make it around the world in 80 days?" asked Magenta, smirking at Layla.

Layla smiled, then grabbed her arm and drug the both of them further down the hall.

"Hey, it's-"

"Isn't that-"

"Crap, that's-

"Look! It's-"

"Oh no, there's-"

"I can't believe it's-

"What are they-"

"You've got to be kidding me!" exclaimed Penny.

The door three cells down from Speed's held a dark-skinned girl wearing an orange jump-suit behind it, staring accusingly out the porthole at Magenta, and especially Layla.

"_**How dare you show your face here?!**_" echoed the single Penny from the other side of the door.

Magenta raised her eyebrows at Layla, who pointed to herself mockingly.

"Who, me?" Layla asked with false innocence.

"**Yes**_**, you!**_" Penny screamed in a furious cacophony of voices.

Layla decided that it was eerie speaking to only one Penny at a time. Especially when all of the hatred of an entire cheer-leading squad's worth was directed from a single source.

"What's that thing you have on there?" asked Magenta, noticing the red harness wrapped around Penny's waist and shoulders. The red harness, made of cable, stretched to the back of the cell, where the end was fixed into an electronic looking device embedded into the wall.

"**It's a restraint device that they invented just for ****self-replicators like us****. Not that we even owe an explanation to a Sidekick like you**," sniped Penny, attempting to toss her hair haughtily but ending up with an unnatural jerking of her neck, as though not all of her muscles were obeying her.

"Us?" asked Layla, her eyebrows raised.

"We?" questioned Magenta, just as skeptical.

Penny awkwardly stepped towards them, taking her time as if making any motion required all of her energy and concentration. "**We all live here now. Together**," said Penny, her voices intermingled. The girls could see her eyes now and a shiver passed through them when they noted how her pupils were quickly dilating and un-dilating in constant succession like ripples expanding in a lake.

Layla watched her, willing the pity rising up in her gut to recede. "Why don't you just separate?"

Penny jerkily pointed behind her to the electric panel in the wall that she was hooked up to. "**If we try to get out, that thing electrocutes us. We're trapped here**..." Then, Penny's face twisted into a hideous snarl and her voices raised again. "**Thanks to you!**"

Before Layla could reply, Magenta stepped up to the porthole and cocked her head at the Penny. "Self-replicator restraints, huh? It looks kind of like those leashes that people use to walk multiple dogs at once. No surprise that you guys inspired them to create it."

"_**Ugh!**_" Penny scoffed. She tried to throw out several streams of insults simultaneously, but her mingled voices rendered them half-finished and incomprehensible. The only word recognizable was "sidekick."

Layla rolled her eyes, and she and Magenta continued uncomfortably on towards the staircase.

"She's a perfect example of why drones require an adequate hive brain in order to function," Magenta muttered, sparing a glance behind her before the two girls descended the staircase at the end of the hall. "It's freaky. I half-expected her to blurt out "_My name is Legion, for we are many_," you know?" Her barb, however, lacked her usual venom.

They could still hear Penny yelling down the hall, but now it sounded as if she were arguing with herself. Every once in a while a broken sob would reach their ears as if one of the Pennies were crying but couldn't express it fully before another made her case.

"That's so creepy, though. How does that harness thing even work? Why can't they just let her replicants recede back into her mind, like normal?" Layla wondered softly.

"Come on, Layla. This place isn't really a rehab center. It's a prison complex. Where's the punishment in _sanity_?" Magenta replied darkly, leading them deeper into the facility.

Once they reached the first underground level (**B1**, a sign posted next to their heads read), eerie noises began to filter through the cell walls. Groaning and sighing, and in a few cases, yelling and screaming emanated from behind the locked double doors on the stairwell, where a blacked-out porthole served for a window. Magenta and Layla quickly stumbled down the stairs to the next level, where they immediately noticed the lack of the horrific sounds of human suffering. There was, in fact, no human noise at all. Just the nearly indecipherable buzzing of the flickering fluorescent lights and the subdued hush that lurked like a wild feline about to pounce. The sign near the door read **B2**. This was it.

They quickly passed the first few doors, power-walking side-by-side without even a glance at the dreaded occupants of the cells. When they got to about halfway down the hall, a muffled voice called out to them.

"_**SHINEPICHZ!**_"

Both girls squealed and then quickly turned away from each other, embarrassed. Inside a porthole to their right was a wall of orange. The voice came from inside.

"_**EERP MEE!**_"

"What the...?" Magenta murmured, and warily approached the door. "Hello?"

Layla followed closely behind her. When the were a few feet away from the porthole, both girls were alarmed to notice that the solid wall of orange was not so much a solid wall of anything, but instead resembled a writhing mass of giant cloth-like orange worms wrapped over and around each other until they filled the view of the porthole and probably the entirety of the room on the other side.

"_**EEH MEE OWWHU EERE!"**_

Magenta and Layla exchanged concerned glances, and pressed their faces against the porthole, trying to peer past and inside the spider-web like barrier in the cell. "Do we know you?" Layla asked, hesitantly.

"Are you a _person_?" Magenta put forward bluntly.

"_**YESH! OH AWD AH EET OOH SO MUUH!"**_

"Did that thing just say it _hated_ us?" guessed Magenta, bemusement written on her features.

"_So much_. I think I know what we're looking at here, now." Layla knocked on the porthole and some of the "worms" jumped, then slid around, seeming to tighten. A muffled scream erupted from deep inside the orange bundle. "_Lash_? Is that you in there?"

"_**YESH! REEZ! EEH MEE OWWT!"**_

"Dude, reel 'em in. We can hardly understand you," advised Magenta, referring to Lash's arms, which formed the chaotic mass of orange knots masking him from their view.

"_**AHHH CAAAAHHHT!"**_ There was an hysterical edge to Lash's cry that made Layla's heart beat faster.

"Why not? What did they do to you?" Layla shouted against the glass, peering her eyes around to catch a glimpse of anything but orange.

"_**WHEN AH MOOF, DAY HEH LONHER!**_" sounded Lash's muffled voice. Layla turned to Magenta, horror etched on her features.

"I think he said that every time he moves, his arms get longer..." Her eyes were wide with disbelief.

"Wow..." Magenta uttered, staring in shock at the window. "That's... just..." She stopped suddenly. "I was gonna say "_twisted_," but I was afraid that you would think I was being insensitive." She shook her head pityingly. "But geez... It seems kind of messed up."

"It is messed up," immediately agreed Layla, darkly. "Just because they're superhuman doesn't mean they don't merit humane treatment."

Lash had either given up on communication, or his voice no longer carried through the mess of his own limbs, because his cell had gone silent.

"That's just it though. What might be _super-_inhumane for one of us can still be classified as humane treatment by civilian standards. After all, it's not _normal_ for people's cells to duplicate or their arms to still grow once they've reached a certain age, you know?" Magenta said, awkwardly avoiding Layla's eyes. She knew that at any other time the two of them could easily fall into some pseudo-intellectual discussion about citizen/Superhero relations and where the law fit in, but right now they had Gwen to worry about. And this place did _not_ sit right with her – they could talk about how fundamentally flawed and worthy of being picketed and burnt to the ground the T.V.R.C.Y. facility was once they were _out of it_.

Layla, however, had a hard time letting go once she saw injustice in practice. "It's a loophole. Something that the Superhero Registration Bill doesn't account for. What's _torture_ for one of _us_ could be _harmless_ to someone who doesn't develop powers..."

"Yeah, I know, Layla. You've told me about it. The SRB is _archaic, unfair, shortsighted and begging for exploitation_," she listed off. "But right now, some Bill isn't what's sabotaging the school and framing Warren for it," Magenta reasoned, a bit more harshly than she meant to.

"...Yeah." Layla whispered, her eyes sightlessly watching the cell window. She let out a sigh, then turned to look at the end of the hall, where their destination awaited. "_Let's go_," she said with a conviction in her tone that Magenta hadn't heard since Will left.

The short walk to Royal Pain's cell revealed that the closer they got, the smaller the cells became, and the several on the very end of the hall didn't even bother with a door and window. They were simply constructed of three stone walls with a fourth wall made entirely of a clear, no doubt super-strong plexiglass with holes drilled in it that allowed visitors to have conversations with the inhabitants.

When Gwen Grayson came into view, she was standing ram-rod straight in her cell, arms folded tightly behind her back. Her eyes wide, she watched the two of them approach with an eerie, wavering kind of calm that betrayed the barely restrained rage boiling just under the surface. It was obvious that she had been waiting.

"Oh, God..." Layla uttered, taking in the sight of who had once been the most fearsome enemy that Sky High had ever encountered. Gwen was pale with dark rings under her alarmingly bright brown eyes, and was completely bald. Her once perfect smile was now marred by quite a few missing teeth and violently chapped lips. She was wearing a dusty white jumpsuit and her room only held a bed chained to the wall, a small metal table and chair, and a toilet in the corner. Layla knew her bare feet must be cold on the stone floor.

"_Hello Layla_... and ... whoever you are. Decidedly _not Will_," rasped Gwen, hardly sounding like the proud megalomaniac that they remembered.

"My name is-"

"Forget it, I don't care," stated Gwen bluntly, interrupting Magenta. "Why did you come?" She only addressed her question to Layla. Magenta rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

"You oughta know," drawled Magenta.

"We came because of _your_ virus," Layla answered accusingly.

Gwen took a cautious step closer to them, and the two girls couldn't help but feel a touch of pity when they noticed the slight wobble to her stance. "How did you find out?" Gwen's voice came out a husky whisper, carrying a confusing tinge of _hope_.

Magenta narrowed her eyes at the girl on the other side of the glass. "Kinda hard not to notice the school trying to collapse with us in it. Don't you ever get bored of playing that game, Gwen?"

"What? What are you talking-" Gwen abruptly let out a short, disbelieving bark of laughter. "_Oh_. You think _I_ did it."

"Because you did," Layla said coolly, not missing a beat.

Gwen, breathing heavy now, stumbled to the glass and leaned her forehead against it, with eyes boring into theirs and breath fogging the glass around her mouth. "If you don't want me to get you kicked out of here – right now – you have to make me a promise. And keep it. 'Cause that's what sidekicks do, isn't it? Eat their breakfast, help little old ladies cross the street, and _keep their promises_?" Her voice was weak, but the malicious glimmer in her eyes revealed that the threat was valid.

Layla and Magenta exchanged a long, meaningful glance. Magenta nodded, once.

Layla stepped closer the the glass, almost close enough for her breath to fog too, and stared Gwen straight in the eye. "What's the promise?"

Gwen released a large, instantaneous exhale, and Layla and Magenta were taken-aback by the slack expression on her hollow face that could only be interpreted through the fog as _relief._

* * *

Warren lightly traced a finger over the bent corner of the page that he was skimming, his anxiety preventing him from absorbing what he was reading. The dead silence of the detention room was off-putting to some, though not to him. He preferred the quiet and had been in the white room enough times to be unaffected by it. No, it was the false accusations and roaring sense of unfairness that drowned out any peace that he may have otherwise experienced during his incarceration. The fire that manifested itself through his hands seemed to react to its forced suffocation by instead igniting an internal struggle within him between cynical acceptance, furious betrayal, and aching hurt.

After all, who else but him would be black-hearted, puppy kicking _evil_ enough to do something like this? He may as well burn a target into his forehead – everyone else but him was able to see it anyway. She had been right. But he hadn't wanted to believe her...

"_They're always going to think of you like that, Warren. No matter what happens, no matter how much good you do – they're all just going to be waiting for you to fall on your face. I'll bet... that some of them hope you screw up so badly now, that they won't even have to worry about you after we graduate. They can make jokes about a heart-warming father-son reunion, and wash their hands of you. Why do you bother with these people?_

Why did he? It was freaking _painful_. It hurt to care about people, to compromise himself to be close to another person. It killed him to be thought of badly by the same people whom he'd saved from the very thing they were accusing him of orchestrating now, less than a year ago. And yet... if they were too busy condemning him with their prejudiced judgments to find out who was truly responsible... they'd fall _with_ him.

He was ashamed to admit to himself that a dark, poisonous piece of his heart was _okay with that_. That part of himself played a large role in fanning the flames of the anger burning inside of him, like a cold, reassuring hand on his shoulder. He knew that the only thing in his life that helped him find a balance between the rage that resulted from the brutal acknowledgment of life's chronic disappointments, and the satisfaction that others were _suffering with him_, was the love and care from the people close to him. When he suffered, they despaired for him, and it was the kind of comfort that he would never be able to feel if he didn't allow himself to care for other people. There was a pain in it, but the kind that could – and would – heal itself. But if they had to suffer with him because of who he was... Was it even fair for him to care about other people?

Knowing his friends, they'd taken it upon themselves to prove his innocence. It was embarrassing to admit that it made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside to imagine those clueless idiots out there, striving to clear his name. And it was also a little scary to _know_ that they had his back. There was no doubt in his mind that they would do everything short of moving the earth itself (unless Will had gotten wind of this and had eaten a big bowl of Wheaties this morning – in which case the _earth was gonna move_) to save him.

... At least his mom wasn't in the school. It was bad enough that she knew how he was perceived here... and blamed herself. If it came down to it, if everything went wrong and it all hit the fan, she would be safe. He could live with that... figuratively.

But his friends... they were going to hack through the brush to the dark heart of this whole ordeal, and he didn't know what they would find. Hayden? Gwen? Someone else? No matter what, his friends _wouldn't_ be safe. They had enemies out there, living breathing villains who did not wish them well. And he couldn't do anything to help them – all he could do was sit here and allow them to risk their lives for him. It made him ill.

Warren began his sixth attempt to read the page he was on, but gave up when he couldn't even get through two straight sentences without a stray thought interrupting his mind. He flipped to the next page with a weary sigh.

_Let them stay safe. **Please**._

* * *

Author's Notes: There! A new chapter! Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed during the long hiatus between chapters. I'm SO SORRY - dang computer problems. I swear though, with each review, I got a little more written. A special thanks to Eva91, who left a review just a few days ago, after which I had a huge breakthrough only a few hours later. I don't know what happened, but I suddenly figured out how to end this in a way that satisfied me – and excited me enough to continue writing Sky High stories.

You'll notice a tonal shift here – it wasn't intentional, but it just sort of happened out of necessity. Blame the underlying corruption in a Superhero society where children's worth is judged by their destructive capabilities, and the government sanctions their segregation from normal people. Ehem... sorry, my inner Layla came out there for a minute... But that perspective definitely holds plenty of plot bunnies. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this chapter (yes YOU! Reading this right now!) and let me know what you think in a review! Thanks for sticking with me, guys!!


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